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Evelina, Or, the History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World

by Fanny Burney · English · Gutenberg #6053 · 887,583 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Evelina, Or, the History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World

Author: Fanny Burney


        
Release date: July 1, 2004 [eBook #6053]
                Most recently updated: December 25, 2025

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/6053


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVELINA, OR, THE HISTORY OF A YOUNG LADY'S ENTRANCE INTO THE WORLD ***




Celebration of Women Writers





------------------------------------------------------------------------

                               EVELINA

                                 OR
                     THE HISTORY OF A YOUNG LADY'S
                          ENTRANCE INTO THE
                                WORLD

                                 1778

                                  BY
                             FANNY BURNEY

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ORIGINAL INSCRIPTION: TO DR. BURNEY


         Oh, Author of my being!-far more dear
           To me than light, than nourishment, or rest,
         Hygeia's blessings, Rapture's burning tear,
           Or the life-blood that mantles in my breast!

         If in my heart the love of Virtue glows,
           'T was planted there by an unerring rule;
         From thy example the pure flame arose,
           Thy life, my precept,-thy good works, my school.

         Could my weak pow'rs thy num'rous virtues trace,
           By filial love each fear should be repress'd,
         The blush of Incapacity I'd chace,
           And stand, Recorder of thy worth, confess'd:

         But since my niggard stars that gift refuse,
           Concealment is the only boon I claim;
         Obscure be still the unsuccessful Muse,
           Who cannot raise, but would not sink, thy fame.

         Oh! of my life at once the source and joy!
           If e'er thy eyes these feeble lines survey,
         Let not their folly their intent destroy;
           Accept the tribute-but forget the lay.


------------------------------------------------------------------------

CONTENTS


        - LETTER I. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER II. Mr. Villars to Lady Howard
        - LETTER III. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER IV. Mr. Villars to Lady Howard
        - LETTER V. Mr. Villars to Lady Howard
        - LETTER VI. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER VII. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER VIII. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER IX. Mr. Villars to Evelina
        - LETTER X. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XI. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XIV. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XV. Mr. Villars to Evelina.
        - LETTER XVI. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XVII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XVIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XIX. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XX. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XXI. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XXII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XXIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XXIV. Mr. Villars to Evelina.
        - LETTER XXV. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XXVI. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XXVII. Lady Howard to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XXVIII. Mr. Villars to Lady Howard
        - LETTER XXIX. Mr. Villars to Evelina.
        - LETTER XXX. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XXXI. Lady Howard to Sir John Belmont, Bart
        - LETTER XXXII. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XXXIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XXXIV. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XXXV. Sir John Belmont to Lady Howard
        - LETTER XXXVI. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XXXVII. Mr. Villars to Evelina
        - LETTER XXXVIII. Mr. Villars to Lady Howard
        - LETTER XXXIX. Mr. Villars to Evelina
        - LETTER XL. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XLI. Evelina to Miss Mirvan
        - LETTER XLII. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XLIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XLIV. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XLV. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XLVI. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XLVII. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER XLVIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER XLIX. Mr. Villars to Evelina
        - LETTER L. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER LI. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LIV. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LV. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LVI. Mr. Villars to Evelina
        - LETTER LVII. Evelina to Miss Mirvan
        - LETTER LVIII. Evelina to Miss Mirvan
        - LETTER LIX. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LX. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXI. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXII. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER LXIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXIV. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXV. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXVI. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXVII. Mr. Villars to Evelina
        - LETTER LXVIII. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER LXIX. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXX. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXI. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXIII. Mr. Villars to Evelina
        - LETTER LXXIV. Lady Belmont to Sir John Belmont
        - LETTER LXXV. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars
        - LETTER LXXVI. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXVII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXVIII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXIX. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXX. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXXI. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXXII. Evelina in Continuation
        - LETTER LXXXIII. Mr. Villars to Evelina
        - LETTER LXXXIV. Evelina to the Rev. Mr. Villars

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ORIGINAL DEDICATION.

TO THE AUTHORS OF THE MONTHLY AND CRITICAL REVIEWS.


GENTLEMEN, The liberty which I take in addressing to you the trifling
production of a few idle hours, will doubtless move your wonder,
and probably your contempt. I will not, however, with the futility of
apologies, intrude upon your time, but briefly acknowledge the motives
of my temerity; lest, by a premature exercise of that patience which
I hope will befriend me, I should lessen its benevolence, and be
accessary to my own condemnation.

Without name, without recommendation, and unknown alike to success
and disgrace, to whom can I so properly apply for patronage, as to
those who publicly profess themselves Inspectors of all literary
performances?

The extensive plan of your critical observations,-which, not confined
to works of utility or ingenuity, is equally open to those of frivolous
amusement,-and, yet worse than frivolous, dullness,-encourages me
to seek for your protection, since,-perhaps for my sins!-it intitles
me to your annotations. To resent, therefore, this offering, however
insignificant, would ill become the universality of your undertaking;
though not to despise it may, alas! be out of your power.

The language of adulation, and the incense of flattery, though the
natural inheritance, and constant resource, from time immemorial,
of the Dedicator, to me offer nothing but the wistful regret that I
dare not invoke their aid.  Sinister views would be imputed to all I
could say; since, thus situated, to extol your judgment, would seem
the effect of art, and to celebrate your impartiality, be attributing
to suspecting it.

As magistrates of the press, and Censors for the public,-to which
you are bound by the sacred ties of integrity to exert the most
spirited impartiality, and to which your suffrages should carry the
marks of pure, dauntless, irrefragable truth-to appeal to your MERCY,
were to solicit your dishonour; and therefore,-though 'tis sweeter
than frankincense,-more grateful to the senses than all the odorous
perfumes of Arabia,-and though

         It droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place
         beneath,-

I court it not! to your justice alone I am intitled, and by that I
must abide.  Your engagements are not to the supplicating authors;
but to the candid public, which will not fail to crave

         The penalty and forfeit of your bond.

No hackneyed writer, inured to abuse, and callous to criticism,
here braves your severity;-neither does a half-starved garretteer,

         Oblig'd by hunger-and request of friends,-

implore your lenity: your examination will be alike unbiassed by
partiality and prejudice;-no refractory murmuring will follow your
censure, no private interest will be gratified by your praise.

Let not the anxious solicitude with which I recommend myself to your
notice, expose me to your derision. Remember, Gentlemen, you were all
young writers once, and the most experienced veteran of your corps may,
by recollecting his first publication, renovate his first terrors,
and learn to allow for mine.  For though Courage is one of the noblest
virtues of this nether sphere; and though scarcely more requisite in
the field of battle, to guard the fighting hero from disgrace, than
in the private commerce of the world, to ward off that littleness of
soul which leads, by steps imperceptible, to all the base train of
the inferior passions, and by which the too timid mind is betrayed
into a servility derogatory to the dignity of human nature! yet is
it a virtue of no necessity in a situation such as mine; a situation
which removes, even from cowardice itself, the sting of ignominy;-for
surely that courage may easily be dispensed with, which would rather
excite disgust than admiration! Indeed, it is the peculiar privilege
of an author, to rob terror of contempt, and pusillanimity of reproach.

Here let me rest- and snatch myself, while I yet am able, from the
fascination of EGOTISM:-a monster who has more votaries than ever
did homage to the most popular deity of antiquity; and whose singular
quality is, that while he excites a blind and involuntary adoration in
almost every individual, his influence is universally disallowed, his
power universally contemned, and his worship, even by his followers,
never mentioned but with abhorence.

In addressing you jointly, I mean but to mark the generous sentiments
by which liberal criticism, to the utter annihilation of envy,
jealousy, and all selfish views, ought to be distinguished.

I have the honour to be,
    GENTLEMEN,
        Your most obedient
            Humble Servant,
                *** ****


------------------------------------------------------------------------

ORIGINAL PREFACE.


IN the republic of letters, there is no member of such inferior rank,
or who is so much disdained by his brethren of the quill, as the
humble Novelist; nor is his fate less hard in the world at large,
since, among the whole class of writers, perhaps not one can be named
of which the votaries are more numerous but less respectable.

Yet, while in the annals of those few of our predecessors, to whom
this species of writing is indebted for being saved from contempt,
and rescued from depravity, we can trace such names as Rousseau,
Johnson,(1)Marivaux, Fielding, Richardson, and Smollett, no man need
blush at starting from the same post, though many, nay, most men,
may sigh at finding themselves distanced.

The following letters are presented to the Public-for such, by novel
writers, novel readers will be called,-with a very singular mixture of
timidity and confidence, resulting from the peculiar situation of the
editor; who, though trembling for their success from a consciousness
of their imperfections, yet fears not being involved in their disgrace,
while happily wrapped up in a mantle of impenetrable obscurity.

To draw characters from nature, though not from life, and to mark
the manners of the times, is the attempted plan of the following
letters. For this purpose, a young female, educated in the most
secluded retirement, makes, at the age of seventeen, her first
appearance upon the great and busy stage of life; with a virtuous
mind, a cultivated understanding, and a feeling heart, her ignorance
of the forms, and inexperience in the manners of the world, occasion
all the little incidents which these volumes record, and which form
the natural progression of the life of a young woman of obscure birth,
but conspicuous beauty, for the first six months after her Entrance
into the world.

Perhaps, were it possible to effect the total extirpation of novels,
our young ladies in general, and boarding-school damsels in particular,
might profit from their annihilation; but since the distemper they
have spread seems incurable, since their contagion bids defiance
to the medicine of advice or reprehension, and since they are found
to baffle all the mental art of physic, save what is prescribed by
the slow regimen of Time, and bitter diet of Experience; surely all
attempts to contribute to the number of those which may be read,
if not with advantage, at least without injury, ought rather to be
encouraged than contemned.

Let me, therefore, prepare for disappointment those who, in the perusal
of these sheets, entertain the gentle expectation of being transported
to the fantastic regions of Romance, where Fiction is coloured by all
the gay tints of luxurious Imagination, where Reason is an outcast,
and where the sublimity of the Marvellous rejects all aid from
sober Probability. The heroine of these memoirs, young, artless,
and inexperienced, is

         No faultless Monster that the world ne'er saw;

but the offspring of Nature, and of Nature in her simplest attire.

In all the Arts, the value of copies can only be proportioned to the
scarcity of originals: among sculptors and painters, a fine statue,
or a beautiful picture, of some great master, may deservedly employ
the imitative talents of young and inferior artists, that their
appropriation to one spot may not wholly prevent the more general
expansion of their excellence; but, among authors, the reverse is the
case, since the noblest productions of literature are almost equally
attainable with the meanest. In books, therefore, imitation cannot
be shunned too sedulously; for the very perfection of a model which
is frequently seen, serves but more forcibly to mark the inferiority
of a copy.

To avoid what is common, without adopting what is unnatural, must
limit the ambition of the vulgar herd of authors: however zealous,
therefore, my veneration of the great writers I have mentioned,
however I may feel myself enlightened by the knowledge of Johnson,
charmed with the eloquence of Rousseau, softened by the pathetic
powers of Richardson, and exhiliarated by the wit of Fielding and
humour of Smollett, I yet presume not to attempt pursuing the same
ground which they have tracked; whence, though they may have cleared
the weeds, they have also culled the flowers; and, though they have
rendered the path plain, they have left it barren.

The candour of my readers I have not the impertinence to doubt, and
to their indulgence I am sensible I have no claim; I have, therefore,
only to intreat, that my own words may not pronounce my condemnation;
and that what I have here ventured to say in regard to imitation, may
be understood as it is meant, in a general sense, and not be imputed
to an opinion of my own originality, which I have not the vanity,
the folly, or the blindness, to entertain.

Whatever may be the fate of these letters, the editor is satisfied
they will meet with justice; and commits them to the press, though
hopeless of fame, yet not regardless of censure.

1)However superior the capacities in which these great writers deserve
to be considered, they must pardon me that, for the dignity of my
subject, I here rank the authors of Rasselas and Eloise as Novelists.


LETTER I

LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Howard Grove, Kent.


CAN any thing, my good Sir, be more painful to a friendly mind, than
a necessity of communicating disagreeable intelligence? Indeed it is
sometimes difficult to determine, whether the relator or the receiver
of evil tidings is most to be pitied.


I have just had a letter from Madame Duval; she is totally at a loss
in what manner to behave; she seems desirous to repair the wrongs she
has done, yet wishes the world to believe her blameless. She would
fain cast upon another the odium of those misfortunes for which she
alone is answerable. Her letter is violent, sometimes abusive, and
that of you!-you, to whom she is under obligations which are greater
even than her faults, but to whose advice she wickedly imputes all the
sufferings of her much injured daughter, the late Lady Belmont. The
chief purport of her writing I will acquaint you with; the letter
itself is not worthy your notice.


She tells me that she has, for many years past, been in continual
expectation of making a journey to England, which prevented her
writing for information concerning this melancholy subject, by giving
her hopes of making personal inquiries; but family occurrences have
still detained her in France, which country she now sees no prospect
of quitting. She has, therefore, lately used her utmost endeavors
to obtain a faithful account of whatever related to her ill-advised
daughter; the result of which giving her some reason to apprehend,
that, upon her death-bed, she bequeathed an infant orphan to the world,
she most graciously says, that if you, with whom she understands the
child is placed, will procure authentic proofs of its relationship to
her, you may sent it to Paris, where she will properly provide for it.


This woman is, undoubtedly, at length, self-convicted of her most
unnatural behaviour; it is evident, from her writing, that she is
still as vulgar and illiterate as when her first husband, Mr. Evelyn,
had the weakness to marry her; nor does she at all apologize for
addressing herself to me, though I was only once in her company.


Her letter has excited in my daughter Mirvan, a strong desire to be
informed of the motives which induced Madame Duval to abandon the
unfortunate Lady Belmont, at a time when a mother's protection was
peculiarly necessary for her peace and her reputation. Notwithstanding
I was personally acquainted with all the parties concerned in that
affair, the subject always appeared of too delicate a nature to be
spoken of with the principals; I cannot, therefore, satisfy Mrs. Mirvan
otherwise than by applying to you.


By saying that you may send the child, Madame Duval aims at conferring,
where she most owes obligation. I pretend not to give you advice;
you, to whose generous protection this helpless orphan is indebted
for every thing, are the best and only judge of what she ought to
do; but I am much concerned at the trouble and uneasiness which this
unworthy woman may occasion you.


My daughter and my grandchild join with me in desiring to be most
kindly remembered to the amiable girl; and they bid me remind you, that
the annual visit to Howard Grove, which we were formerly promised,
has been discontinued for more than four years.  I am, dear Sir,
with great regard, Your most obedient friend and servant, M. HOWARD.


LETTER II

MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD Berry Hill, Dorsetshire.


YOUR Ladyship did but too well foresee the perplexity and uneasiness
of which Madame Duval's letter has been productive. However, I ought
rather to be thankful that I have so many years remained unmolested,
than repine at my present embarrassment; since it proves, at least,
that this wretched woman is at length awakened to remorse.


In regard to my answer, I must humbly request your Ladyship to write
to this effect: "That I would not, upon any account, intentionally
offend Madame Duval; but that I have weighty, nay unanswerable
reasons for detaining her grand-daughter at present in England;
the principal of which is, that it was the earnest desire of one
to whose will she owes implicit duty. Madame Duval may be assured,
that she meets with the utmost attention and tenderness; that her
education, however short of my wishes, almost exceeds my abilities;
and I flatter myself, when the time arrives that she shall pay her
duty to her grand-mother, Madame Duval will find no reason to be
dissatisfied with what has been done for her."


Your Ladyship will not, I am sure, be surprised at this answer. Madame
Duval is by no means a proper companion or guardian for a young woman:
she is at once uneducated and unprincipled; ungentle in temper, and
unamiable in her manners. I have long known that she has persuaded
herself to harbour an aversion for me-Unhappy woman! I can only regard
her as an object of pity!


I dare not hesitate at a request from Mrs. Mirvan; yet, in complying
with it, I shall, for her own sake, be as concise as I possibly can;
since the cruel transactions which preceded the birth of my ward can
afford no entertainment to a mind so humane as her's.


Your Ladyship may probably have heard, that I had the honour to
accompany Mr.  Evelyn, the grandfather of my young charge, when
upon his travels, in the capacity of a tutor. His unhappy marriage,
immediately upon his return to England, with Madame Duval, then a
waiting-girl at a tavern, contrary to the advice and entreaties of
all his friends, among whom I was myself the most urgent, induced
him to abandon his native land, and fix his abode in France.
Thither he was followed by shame and repentance; feelings which
his heart was not framed to support; for, notwithstanding he had
been too weak to resist the allurements of beauty, which nature,
though a niggard to her of every other boon, had with a lavish hand
bestowed on his wife; yet he was a young man of excellent character,
and, till thus unaccountably infatuated, of unblemished conduct. He
survived this ill-judged marriage but two years. Upon his death-bed,
with an unsteady hand, he wrote me the following note:


"My friend, forget your resentment, in favour of your humanity;-a
father, trembling for the welfare of his child, bequeaths her to your
care. O Villars! hear! pity! And relieve me!"


Had my circumstances permitted me, I should have answered these words
by an immediate journey to Paris; but I was obliged to act by the
agency of a friend, who was upon the spot, and present at the opening
of the will.


Mr. Evelyn left to me a legacy of a thousand pounds, and the sole
guardianship of his daughter's person till her eighteenth year;
conjuring me, in the most affecting terms, to take the charge of her
education till she was able to act with propriety for herself; but,
in regard to fortune, he left her wholly dependent on her mother,
to whose tenderness he earnestly recommended her.


Thus, though he would not, to a woman low-bred and illiberal as
Mrs. Evelyn, trust the conduct and morals of his daughter, he
nevertheless thought proper to secure to her the respect and duty
to which, from her own child, were certainly her due; but unhappily,
it never occurred to him that the mother, on her part, could fail in
affection or justice.


Miss Evelyn, Madam, from the second to the eighteenth year of her
life, was brought up under my care, and, except when at school
under my roof. I need not speak to your Ladyship of the virtues
of that excellent young creature.  She loved me as her father; nor
was Mrs. Villars less valued by her; while to me she became so dear,
that her loss was little less afflicting than that which I have since
sustained of Mrs. Villars herself.


At that period of her life we parted; her mother, then married to
Monsieur Duval, sent for her to Paris. How often have I since regretted
that I did not accompany her thither! Protected and supported by me,
the misery and disgrace which awaited her might perhaps have been
avoided. But, to be brief-Madame Duval, at the instigation of her
husband, earnestly, or rather tyrannically, endeavoured to effect a
union between Miss Evelyn and one of his nephews.  And, when she found
her power inadequate to her attempt, enraged at her non-compliance,
she treated her with the grossest unkindness, and threatened her with
poverty and ruin.


Miss Evelyn, to whom wrath and violence had hitherto been strangers,
soon grew weary of such usage; and rashly, and without a witness,
consented to a private marriage with Sir John Belmont, a very
profligate young man, who had but too successfully found means to
insinuate himself into her favour. He promised to conduct her to
England-he did.-O, Madam, you know the rest!-Disappointed of the
fortune he expected, by the inexorable rancour of the Duvals, he
infamously burnt the certificate of their marriage, and denied that
they had ever been united.


She flew to me for protection. With what mixed transports of joy and
anguish did I again see her! By my advice, she endeavoured to procure
proofs of her marriage-but in vain; her credulity had been no match
for his art.


Every body believed her innocent, from the guiltless tenor of her
unspotted youth, and from the known libertinism of her barbarous
betrayer. Yet her sufferings were too acute for her slender frame;
and the same moment that gave birth to her infant, put an end at once
to the sorrows and the life of its mother.


The rage of Madame Duval at her elopement, abated not while this
injured victim of cruelty yet drew breath. She probably intended, in
time, to have pardoned her; but time was not allowed. When she was
informed of her death, I have been told, that the agonies of grief
and remorse, with which she was seized, occasioned her a severe fit
of illness. But, from the time of her recovery to the date of her
letter to your Ladyship, I had never heard that she manifested any
desire to be made acquainted with the circumstances which attended
the death of Lady Belmont, and the birth of her helpless child.


That child, Madam, shall never, while life is lent me, know the loss
she has sustained. I have cherished, succoured, and supported her,
from her earliest infancy to her sixteenth year; and so amply has she
repaid my care and affection, that my fondest wish is now circumscribed
by the desire of bestowing her on one who may be sensible of her worth,
and then sinking to eternal rest in her arms.


Thus it has happened, that the education of the father, daughter,
and grand-daughter, has devolved on me. What infinite misery have the
two first caused me! Should the fate of the dear survivor be equally
adverse, how wretched will be the end of my cares-the end of my days!


Even had Madame Duval merited the charge she claims, I fear my
fortitude would have been unequal to such a parting; but being such
as she is, not only my affection, but my humanity, recoils, at the
barbarous idea of deserting the sacred trust reposed in me. Indeed,
I could but ill support her former yearly visits to the respectable
mansion at Howard Grove: pardon me, dear Madam, and do not think me
insensible of the honour which your Ladyship's condescension confers
upon us both; but so deep is the impression which the misfortunes
of her mother have made on my heart, that she does not, even for
a moment, quit my sight without exciting apprehensions and terrors
which almost overpower me. Such, Madam, is my tenderness, and such
my weakness!-But she is the only tie I have upon earth, and I trust
to your Ladyship's goodness not to judge of my feelings with severity.


I beg leave to present my humble respects to Mrs. and Miss Mirvan;
and have the honour to be, Madam, your Ladyship's most obedient and
most humble servant, ARTHUR VILLARS.


LETTER III [Written some months after the last]

LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Howard Grove, March 8.


Dear and Rev. Sir,


YOUR last letter gave me infinite pleasure: after so long and tedious
an illness, how grateful to yourself and to your friends must be your
returning health! You have the hearty wishes of every individual of
this place for its continuance and increase.


Will you not think I take advantage of your acknowledged recovery,
if I once more venture to mention your pupil and Howard Grove
together? Yet you must remember the patience with which we submitted
to your desire of not parting with her during the bad state of your
health, tho' it was with much reluctance we forbore to solicit her
company. My grand-daughter in particular, has scarce been able to
repress her eagerness to again meet the friend of her infancy; and
for my own part, it is very strongly my wish to manifest the regard I
had for the unfortunate Lady Belmont, by proving serviceable to her
child; which seems to me the best respect that can be paid to her
memory. Permit me, therefore, to lay before you a plan which Mrs.
Mirvan and I have formed, in consequence of your restoration to health.


I would not frighten you;-but do you think you could bear to part
with your young companion for two or three months? Mrs. Mirvan
proposes to spend the ensuing spring in London, whither for the
first time, my grandchild will accompany her: Now, my good friend,
it is very earnestly their wish to enlarge and enliven their party by
the addition of your amiable ward, who would share, equally with her
own daughter, the care and attention of Mrs.  Mirvan. Do not start
at this proposal; it is time that she should see something of the
world. When young people are too rigidly sequestered from it, their
lively and romantic imaginations paint it to them as a paradise of
which they have been beguiled; but when they are shown it properly,
and in due time, they see it such as it really is, equally shared by
pain and pleasure, hope and disappointment.


You have nothing to apprehend from her meeting with Sir John Belmont,
as that abandoned man is now abroad, and not expected home this year.


Well, my good Sir, what say you to our scheme? I hope it will meet
with your approbation; but if it should not, be assured I can never
object to any decision of one who is so much respected and esteemed
as Mr. Villars, by His most faithful, humble servant, M. HOWARD.


LETTER IV

MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD Berry Hill, March 12.


I AM grieved, Madam, to appear obstinate, and I blush to incur
the imputation of selfishness. In detaining my young charge thus
long with myself in the country, I consulted not solely my own
inclination. Destined, in all probability, to possess a very moderate
fortune, I wished to contract her views to something within it. The
mind is but too naturally prone to pleasure, but too easily yielded
to dissipation: it has been my study to guard her against their
delusions, by preparing her to expect-and to despise them. But the
time draws on for experience and observation to take the place of
instruction: if I have in some measure, rendered her capable of using
one with discretion, and making the other with improvement, I shall
rejoice myself with the assurance of having largely contributed to her
welfare. She is now of an age that happiness is eager to attend,-let
her then enjoy it! I commit her to the protection of your Ladyship,
and only hope she may be found worthy half the goodness I am satisfied
she will meet with at your hospitable mansion.


Thus far, Madam, I cheerfully submit to your desire. In confiding my
ward to the care of Lady Howard, I can feel no uneasiness from her
absence, but what will arise from the loss of her company, since I
shall be as well convinced of her safety as if she were under my own
roof.-But can your Ladyship be serious in proposing to introduce her
to the gaieties of a London life?  Permit me to ask, for what end,
or for what purpose? A youthful mind is seldom totally free from
ambition; to curb that, is the first step to contentment, since to
diminish expectation is to increase enjoyment. I apprehend nothing
more than too much raising her hopes and her views, which the natural
vivacity of her disposition would render but too easy to effect.
The town-acquaintance of Mrs. Mirvan are all in the circle of high
life; this artless young creature, with too much beauty to escape
notice, has too much sensibility to be indifferent to it; but she
has too little wealth to be sought with propriety by men of the
fashionable world.


Consider Madam, the peculiar cruelty of her situation. Only child of
a wealthy Baronet, whose person she has never seen, whose character
she has reason to abhor, and whose name she is forbidden to claim;
entitled as she is to lawfully inherit his fortune and estate, is
there any probability that he will properly own her? And while he
continues to persevere in disavowing his marriage with Miss Evelyn,
she shall never, at the expense of her mother's honour, receive a
part of her right as the donation of his bounty.


And as to Mr. Evelyn's estate, I have no doubt but that Madame Duval
and her relations will dispose of it among themselves.


It seems, therefore, as if this deserted child, though legally heiress
to two large fortunes, must owe all her rational expectations to
adoption and friendship. Yet her income will be such as may make her
happy, if she is disposed to be so in private life; though it will
by no means allow her to enjoy the luxury of a London fine lady.


Let Miss Mirvan, then, Madam, shine in all the splendour of high life;
but suffer my child still to enjoy the pleasures of humble retirement,
with a mind to which greater views are unknown.


I hope this reasoning will be honoured with your approbation; and
I have yet another motive which has some weight with me: I would
not willingly give offence to any human being; and surely Madame
Duval might accuse me of injustice, if, while I refuse to let her
grand-daughter wait upon her, I consent that she should join a party
of pleasure to London.


In sending her to Howard Grove, not one of these scruples arise;
and therefore Mrs. Clinton, a most worthy woman, formerly her nurse,
and now my housekeeper, shall attend her thither next week.


Though I have always called her by the name of Anville, and reported
in this neighbourhood that her father, my intimate friend, left her to
my guardianship; yet I have thought it necessary she should herself
be acquainted with the melancholy circumstances attending her birth:
for though I am very desirous of guarding her from curiosity and
impertinence, by concealing her name, family, and story, yet I would
not leave it in the power of chance to shock her gentle nature with
a tale of so much sorrow.


You must not, Madam, expect too much from my pupil; she is quite
a little rustic, and knows nothing of the world; and though her
education has been the best I could bestow in this retired place,
to which Dorchester, the nearest town, is seven miles distant, yet
I shall not be surprised if you should discover in her a thousand
deficiencies of which I have never dreamt. She must be very much
altered since she was last at Howard Grove. But I will say nothing
of her; I leave her to your Ladyship's own observations, of which
I beg a faithful relation; and am, Dear Madam, with great respect,
Your obedient and most humble Servant, ARTHUR VILLARS.


LETTER V

MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD March 18.  Dear Madam,


THIS letter will be delivered to you by my child-the child of my
adoption-my affection! Unblest with one natural friend, she merits
a thousand. I send her to you innocent as an angel, and artless as
purity itself; and I send you with her the heart of your friend, the
only hope he has on earth, the subject of his tenderest thoughts, and
the object of his latest cares. She is one, Madam, for whom alone I
have lately wished to live; and she is one whom to serve I would with
transport die! Restore her but to me all innocence as you receive her,
and the fondest hope of my heart will be amply gratified.  A. VILLARS.


LETTER VI

LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Howard Grove.


Dear Rev. Sir,


THE solemn manner in which you have committed your child to my care,
has in some measure damped the pleasure which I receive from the
trust, as it makes me fear that you suffer from your compliance, in
which case I shall very sincerely blame myself for the earnestness
with which I have requested this favour: but remember, my good Sir,
she is within a few days summons; and be assured, I will not detain
her a moment longer than you wish.


You desire my opinion of her.


She is a little angel! I cannot wonder that you sought to monopolize
her: neither ought you, at finding it impossible.


Her face and person answer my most refined ideas of complete beauty:
and this, though a subject of praise less important to you, or, to
me than any other, is yet so striking, it is not possible to pass
it unnoticed. Had I not known from whom she received her education,
I should at first sight of so perfect a face, have been in pain for
her understanding; since it has been long and justly remarked, that
folly has ever sought alliance with beauty.


She has the same gentleness in her manners, the same natural graces
in her motions, that I formerly so much admired in her mother. Her
character seems truly ingenuous and simple; and at the same time
that nature has blessed her with an excellent understanding and great
quickness of parts, she has a certain air of inexperience and innocency
that is extremely interesting.


You have not reason to regret the retirement in which she has lived;
since that politeness which is acquired by an acquaintance with high
life, is in her so well supplied by a natural desire of obliging,
joined to a deportment infinitely engaging.


I observe, with great satisfaction, a growing affection between
this amiable girl and my grand-daughter, whose heart is as free
from selfishness or conceit, as that of her young friend is from
all guile. Their regard may be mutually useful, since much is to be
expected from emulation where nothing is to be feared from envy. I
would have them love each other as sisters, and reciprocally supply
the place of that tender and happy relationship to which neither of
them has a natural claim.


Be satisfied, my good Sir, that your child shall meet with the same
attention as our own. We all join in most hearty wishes for your health
and happiness, and in returning our sincere thanks for the favour you
have conferred on us.  I am, dear Sir, Your most faithful servant,
M. HOWARD.


LETTER VII

LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Howard Grove, March 26.


BE not alarmed, my worthy friend, at my so speedily troubling you
again; I seldom use the ceremony of waiting for answers, or writing
with any regularity, and I have at present immediate occasion for
begging your patience.


Mrs. Mirvan has just received a letter from her long absent husband,
containing the welcome news of his hoping to reach London by
the beginning of next week. My daughter and the Captain have been
separated almost seven years, and it would therefore be needless to
say what joy, surprise, and consequently confusion, his at present
unexpected return has caused at Howard Grove. Mrs. Mirvan, you cannot
doubt, will go instantly to town to meet him; her daughter is under
a thousand obligations to attend her; I grieve that her mother cannot.


And now, my good Sir, I almost blush to proceed;-but, tell me, may I
ask-will you permit-that your child may accompany them? Do not think
us unreasonable, but consider the many inducements which conspire to
make London the happiest place at present she can be in. The joyful
occasion of the journey; the gaiety of the whole party, opposed to
the dull life she must lead, if left here with a solitary old woman
for her sole companion, while she so well knows the cheerfulness and
felicity enjoyed by the rest of the family,-are circumstances that
seem to merit your consideration. Mrs. Mirvan desires me to assure
you that one week is all she asks, as she is certain that the Captain,
who hates London, will be eager to revisit Howard Grove; and Maria is
so very earnest in wishing to have the company of her friend, that,
if you are inexorable, she will be deprived of half the pleasure she
otherwise hopes to receive.


However, I will not, my good Sir, deceive you into an opinion that
they intend to live in a retired manner, as that cannot be fairly
expected. But you have no reason to be uneasy concerning Madame Duval;
she has not any correspondent in England, and obtains no intelligence
but by common report. She must be a stranger to the name your child
bears; and, even should she hear of this excursion, so short a time
as a week or less spent in town upon so particular an occasion,
though previous to their meeting, cannot be construed into disrespect
to herself.


Mrs. Mirvan desires me to assure you, that if you will oblige her,
her two children shall equally share her time and her attention. She
has sent a commission to a friend in town to take a house for her;
and while she waits for an answer concerning it, I shall for one
from you to our petition.  However, your child is writing herself;
and that, I doubt not, will more avail than all we can possible urge.


My daughter desires her best compliments to you if, she says, you
will grant her request but not else.


Adieu, my dear Sir, we all hope every thing from your goodness.
M. HOWARD.


LETTER VIII

EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Howard Grove, March 26.


THIS house seems to be the house of joy; every face wears a smile,
and a laugh is at every body's service. It is quite amusing to walk
about and see the general confusion; a room leading to the garden
is fitting up for Captain Mirvan's study. Lady Howard does not sit a
moment in a place; Miss Mirvan is making caps; every body so busy!-such
flying from room to room!-so many orders given, and retracted, and
given again! nothing but hurry and perturbation.


Well but, my dear Sir, I am desired to make a request to you. I hope
you will not think me an encroacher; Lady Howard insists upon my
writing!-yet I hardly know how to go on; a petition implies a want
and have you left me one? No, indeed.


I am half ashamed of myself for beginning this letter. But these dear
ladies are so pressing-I cannot, for my life, resist wishing for the
pleasures they offer me,-provided you do not disapprove them.


They are to make a very short stay in town. The Captain will meet them
in a day or two. Mrs. Mirvan and her sweet daughter both go; what a
happy party!  Yet, I am not very eager to accompany them: at least
I shall be contented to remain where I am, if you desire that I should.


Assured, my dearest Sir, of your goodness, your bounty, and your
indulgent kindness, ought I to form a wish that has not your
sanction? Decide for me, therefore, without the least apprehension
that I shall be uneasy or discontented. While I am yet in suspense,
perhaps I may hope; but I am most certain that when you have once
determined I shall not repine.


They tell me that London is now in full splendour. Two playhouses
are open,-the Opera-house,-Ranelagh,-and the Pantheon.-You see I have
learned all their names. However, pray don't suppose that I make any
point of going, for I shall hardly sigh, to see them depart without me,
though I shall probably never meet with such another opportunity. And,
indeed, their domestic happiness will be so great,-it is natural to
wish to partake of it.


I believe I am bewitched! I made a resolution, when I began, that
I would not be urgent; but my pen-or rather my thoughts, will not
suffer me to keep it-for I acknowledge, I must acknowledge, I cannot
help wishing for your permission.


I almost repent already that I have made this confession; pray forget
that you have read it, if this journey is displeasing to you. But
I will not write any longer; for the more I think of this affair,
the less indifferent to it I find myself.


Adieu, my most honoured, most reverenced, most beloved father! for
by what other name can I call you? I have no happiness or sorrow,
no hope or fear, but what your kindness bestows, or your displeasure
may cause. You will not, I am sure, send a refusal without reasons
unanswerable, and therefore I shall cheerfully acquiesce. Yet I
hope-I hope you will be able to permit me to go!  I am, with the
utmost affection, gratitude, and duty, your EVELINA -


I cannot to you sign ANVILLE, and what other name may I claim?


LETTER IX

MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA Berry Hill, March 28.


TO resist the urgency of intreaty, is a power which I have not yet
acquired: I aim not at an authority which deprives you of liberty,
yet I would fain guide myself by a prudence which should save me the
pangs of repentance. Your impatience to fly to a place which your
imagination has painted to you in colors so attractive, surprises me
not; I have only to hope, that the liveliness of your fancy may not
deceive you: to refuse, would be raising it still higher. To see my
Evelina happy, is to see myself without a wish: go, then my child;
and may that Heaven, which alone can direct, preserve and strengthen
you! To that, my love, will I daily offer prayers for your felicity. O
may it guard, watch over you, defend you from danger, save you from
distress, and keep vice as distant from your person as from your heart!
And to me, may it grant, the ultimate blessing of closing these aged
eyes in the arms of one so dear-so deservedly beloved!  ARTHUR VILLARS.


LETTER X

EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Queen Ann Street, London, Saturday,
April 2.


THIS moment arrived. Just going to Drury Lane Theatre. The celebrated
Mr.  Garrick performs Ranger. I am quite in ecstasy. So is Miss
Mirvan. How fortunate that he should happen to play! We would not
let Mrs. Mirvan rest till she consented to go. Her chief objection
was to our dress, for we have had no time to Londonize ourselves; but
we teased her into compliance, and so we are to sit in some obscure
place that she may not be seen. As to me, I should be alike unknown
in the most conspicuous or most private part of the house.


I can write no more now. I have hardly time to breathe-only just this,
the houses and streets are not quite so superb as I expected. However,
I have seen nothing yet, so I ought not to judge.


Well; adieu, my dearest Sir, for the present; I could not forbear
writing a few words instantly on my arrival, though I suppose my letter
of thanks for your consent is still on the road.  Saturday Night.


O, my dear Sir, in what raptures am I returned? Well may Mr. Garrick
be so celebrated, so universally admired-I had not any idea of so
great a performer.


Such ease! such vivacity in his manner! such grace in his motions! such
fire and meaning in his eyes!-I could hardly believe he had studied
a written part, for every word seemed to be uttered from the impulse
of the moment.


His action-at once so graceful and so free!-his voice-so clear,
so melodious, yet so wonderfully various in its tones!-Such
animation!-every look speaks!


I would have given the world to have had the whole play acted over
again. And when he danced-O, how I envied Clarinda! I almost wished
to have jumped on the stage and joined them.


I am afraid you will think me mad, so I won't say any more; yet,
I really believe Mr. Garrick would make you mad too if you could see
him. I intend to ask Mrs. Mirvan to go to the play every night while
we stay in town. She is extremely kind to me; and Maria, her charming
daughter, is the sweetest girl in the world.


I shall write to you every evening all that passes in the day, and
that in the same manner as, if I could see, I should tell you.  Sunday.


This morning we went to Portland chapel; and afterwards we walked
in the mall of St. James's Park, which by no means answered my
expectations: it is a long straight walk of dirty gravel, very uneasy
to the feet; and at each end instead of an open prospect, nothing is
to be seen but houses built of brick.  When Mrs. Mirvan pointed out
the Palace to me-I think I was never much more surprised.


However, the walk was very agreeable to us; every body looked gay,
and seemed pleased; and the ladies were so much dressed, that Miss
Mirvan and I could do nothing but look at them. Mrs. Mirvan met
several of her friends. No wonder, for I never saw so many people
assembled together before. I looked about for some of my acquaintance,
but in vain; for I saw not one person that I knew, which is very odd,
for all the world seemed there.


Mrs. Mirvan says we are not to walk in the Park again next Sunday,
even if we should be in town, because there is better company in
Kensington Gardens; but really if you had seen how much every body
was dressed, you would not think that possible.  Monday.


We are to go this evening to a private ball, given by Mrs. Stanley,
a very fashionable lady of Mrs. Mirvan's acquaintance.


We have been a-shopping as Mrs. Mirvan calls it, all this morning,
to buy silks, caps, gauzes, and so forth.


The shops are really very entertaining, especially the mercers; there
seem to be six or seven men belonging to each shop; and every one took
care by bowing and smirking, to be noticed. We were conducted from
one to another, and carried from room to room with so much ceremony,
that at I was almost afraid to go on.


I thought I should never have chosen a silk: for they produced so
many, I knew not which to fix upon; and they recommended them all so
strongly, that I fancy they thought I only wanted persuasion to buy
every thing they showed me. And, indeed, they took so much trouble,
that I was almost ashamed I could not.


At the milliners, the ladies we met were so much dressed, that I should
rather have imagined they were making visits than purchases. But
what most diverted me was, that we were more frequently served
by men than by women; and such men! so finical, so affected! they
seemed to understand every part of a woman's dress better than we
do ourselves; and they recommended caps and ribbands with an air of
so much importance, that I wished to ask them how long they had left
off wearing them.


The dispatch with which they work in these great shops is amazing,
for they have promised me a complete suit of linen against the evening.


I have just had my hair dressed. You can't think how oddly my head
feels; full of powder and black pins, and a great cushion on the top
of it. I believe you would hardly know me, for my face looks quite
different to what it did before my hair was dressed. When I shall
be able to make use of a comb for myself I cannot tell; for my hair
is so much entangled, frizzled they call it, that I fear it will be
very difficult.


I am half afraid of this ball to-night; for, you know, I have never
danced but at school: however, Miss Mirvan says there is nothing in
it. Yet, I wish it was over.


Adieu, my dear Sir, pray excuse the wretched stuff I write; perhaps
I may improve by being in this town, and then my letters will be less
unworthy your reading. Meantime, I am, Your dutiful and affectionate,
though unpolished, EVELINA.


Poor Miss Mirvan cannot wear one of the caps she made, because they
dress her hair too large for them.


LETTER XI

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Queen Ann Street, April 5, Tuesday Morning.


I HAVE a vast deal to say, and shall give all this morning to my pen.


As to my plan of writing every evening the adventures of the day,
I find it impracticable; for the diversions here are so very late,
that if I begin my letters after them, I could not go to bed at all.


We passed a most extraordinary evening. A private ball this was called,
so I expected to have seen about four or five couple; but Lord! my
dear Sir, I believe I saw half the world! Two very large rooms were
full of company; in one were cards for the elderly ladies, and in
the other were the dancers. My mamma Mirvan, for she always calls me
her child, said she would sit with Maria and me till we were provided
with partners, and then join the card-players.


The gentlemen, as they passed and repassed, looked as if they thought
we were quite at their disposal, and only waiting for the honour of
their commands; and they sauntered about, in a careless, indolent
manner, as if with a view to keep us in suspense. I don't speak of
this in regard to Miss Mirvan and myself only, but to the ladies in
general: and I thought it so provoking, that I determined in my own
mind that, far from humouring such airs, I would rather not dance
at all, than with any one who would seem to think me ready to accept
the first partner who would condescend to take me.


Not long after, a young man, who had for some time looked at us with a
kind of negligent impertinence, advanced on tiptoe towards me; he had
a set smile on his face, and his dress was so foppish, that I really
believed he even wished to be stared at; and yet he was very ugly.


Bowing almost to the ground with a sort of swing, and waving his
hand, with the greatest conceit, after a short and silly pause, he
said, "Madam-may I presume?"-and stopt, offering to take my hand. I
drew it back, but could scarce forbear laughing. "Allow me, Madam,"
continued he, affectedly breaking off every half moment, "the honour
and happiness-if I am not so unhappy as to address you too late-to
have the happiness and honour-"


Again he would have taken my hand; but bowing my head, I begged to
be excused, and turned to Miss Mirvan to conceal my laughter. He then
desired to know if I had already engaged myself to some more fortunate
man? I said No, and that I believed I should not dance at all. He would
keep himself he told me, disengaged, in hopes I should relent; and
then, uttering some ridiculous speeches of sorrow and disappointment,
though his face still wore the same invariable smile, he retreated.


It so happened, as we have since recollected, that during this little
dialogue Mrs. Mirvan was conversing with the lady of the house. And
very soon after, another gentleman, who seemed about six-and-twenty
years old, gaily but not foppishly dressed, and indeed extremely
handsome, with an air of mixed politeness and gallantry, desired to
know if I was engaged, or would honour him with my hand. So he was
pleased to say, though I am sure I know not what honour he could
receive from me; but these sort of expressions, I find, are used
as words of course, without any distinction of persons, or study
of propriety.


Well, I bowed, and I am sure I coloured; for indeed I was frightened
at the thoughts of dancing before so many people, all strangers, and,
which was worse, with a stranger: however, that was unavoidable;
for, though I looked round the room several times, I could not see
one person that I knew. And so he took my hand, and led me to join
in the dance.


The minuets were over before we arrived, for we were kept late by
the milliners making us wait for our things.


He seemed very desirous of entering into conversation with me; but
I was seized with such a panic, that I could hardly speak a word,
and nothing but the shame of so soon changing my mind prevented my
returning to my seat, and declining to dance at all.


He appeared to be surprised at my terror, which I believe was but
too apparent: however, he asked no questions, though I fear he must
think it very strange, for I did not choose to tell him it was owing
to my never before dancing but with a school-girl.


His conversation was sensible and spirited; his air, and address
were open and noble; his manners gentle, attentive, and infinitely
engaging; his person is all elegance, and his countenance the most
animated and expressive I have ever seen.


In a short time we were joined by Miss Mirvan, who stood next couple
to us.  But how I was startled when she whispered me that my partner
was a nobleman!  This gave me a new alarm: how will he be provoked,
thought I, when he finds what a simple rustic he has honoured with
his choice! one whose ignorance of the world makes her perpetually
fear doing something wrong!


That he should be so much my superior in every way, quite disconcerted
me; and you will suppose my spirits were not much raised, when I
heard a lady, in passing us, say, "This is the most difficult dance
I ever saw."


"O dear, then" cried Maria to her partner, "with your leave, I'll
sit down till the next."


"So will I too, then," cried I, "for I am sure I can hardly stand."


"But you must speak to your partner first," answered she; for he
had turned aside to talk with some gentlemen. However, I had not
sufficient courage to address him; and so away we all three tript,
and seated ourselves at another end of the room.


But, unfortunately for me, Miss Mirvan soon after suffered herself to
be prevailed upon to attempt the dance; and just as she rose to go,
she cried, "My dear, yonder is your partner, Lord Orville walking
about the room in search of you."


"Don't leave me then, dear girl!" cried I; but she was obliged to
go. And now I was more uneasy than ever; I would have given the world
to have seen Mrs.  Mirvan, and begged of her to make my apologies;
for what, thought I, can I possibly say to him in excuse for running
away? He must either conclude me a fool, or half mad; for any one
brought up in the great world, and accustomed to its ways, can have
no idea of such sort of fears as mine.


My confusion increased when I observed that he was every where seeking
me, with apparent perplexity and surprise; but when, at last, I saw
him move towards the place where I sat, I was ready to sink with
shame and distress. I found it absolutely impossible to keep my seat,
because I could not think of a word to say for myself; and so I rose,
and walked hastily towards the card-room, resolving to stay with
Mrs. Mirvan the rest of the evening, and not to dance at all. But
before I could find her, Lord Orville saw and approached me.


He begged to know if I was not well? You may easily imagine how much
I was embarrassed. I made no answer; but hung my head like a fool,
and looked on my fan.


He then, with an air the most respectfully serious, asked if he had
been so unhappy as to offend me?


"No, indeed!" cried I; and, in hopes of changing the discourse, and
preventing his further inquiries, I desired to know if he had seen
the young lady who had been conversing with me?


No;-but would I honour him with any commands to her?


"O, by no means!"


Was there any other person with whom I wished to speak?


I said no, before I knew I had answered at all.


Should he have the pleasure of bringing me any refreshment?


I bowed, almost involuntarily. And away he flew.


I was quite ashamed of being so troublesome, and so much above
myself as these seeming airs made me appear; but indeed I was too
much confused to think or act with any consistency.


If he had not been as swift as lightning, I don't know whether I
should not have stolen away again; but he returned in a moment. When
I had drank a glass of lemonade, he hoped, he said, that I would
again honour him with my hand, as a new dance was just begun. I had
not the presence of mind to say a single word, and so I let him once
more lead me to the place I had left.


Shocked to find how silly, how childish a part I had acted, my former
fears of dancing before such a company, and with such a partner,
returned more forcibly than ever. I suppose he perceived my uneasiness;
for he entreated me to sit down again if dancing was disagreeable to
me. But I was quite satisfied with the folly I had already shewn; and
therefore declined his offer, though I was really scarce able to stand.


Under such conscious disadvantages, you may easily imagine my dear Sir,
how ill I acquitted myself. But, though I both expected and deserved
to find him very much mortified and displeased at his ill fortune in
the choice he had made; yet, to my very great relief, he appeared to
be even contented, and very much assisted and encouraged me. These
people in high life have too much presence of mind, I believe, to
seem disconcerted, or out of humour, however they may feel: for had
I been the person of the most consequence in the room, I could not
have met with more attention and respect.


When the dance was over, seeing me still very much flurried, he led
me to a seat, saying that he would not suffer me to fatigue myself
from politeness.


And then, if my capacity, or even, if my spirits had been better, in
how animated a conversation I might have been engaged! it was then
I saw that the rank of Lord Orville was his least recommendation,
his understanding and his manners being far more distinguished. His
remarks upon the company in general were so apt, so just, so lively,
I am almost surprised myself that they did not reanimate me; but,
indeed, I was too well convinced of the ridiculous part I had myself
played before so nice an observer, to be able to enjoy his pleasantry:
so self-compassion gave me feeling for others. Yet I had not the
courage to attempt either to defend them or to rally in my turn;
but listened to him in silent embarrassment.


When he found this, he changed the subject, and talked of public
places, and public performers; but he soon discovered that I was
totally ignorant of them.


He then, very ingeniously, turned the discourse to the amusements
and occupations of the country.


It now struck me that he was resolved to try whether or not I was
capable of talking upon any subject. This put so great a restraint
upon my thoughts, that I was unable to go further than a monosyllable,
and not ever so far, when I could possibly avoid it.


We were sitting in this manner, he conversing with all gaiety, I
looking down with all foolishness, when that fop who had first asked
me to dance, with a most ridiculous solemnity approached, and, after
a profound bow or two, said, "I humbly beg pardon, Madam,-and of you
too, my Lord,-for breaking in upon such agreeable conversation-which
must, doubtless, be more delectable-than what I have the honour
to offer-but-"


I interrupted him-I blush for my folly,-with laughing; yet I could not
help it; for, added to the man's stately foppishness, (and he actually
took snuff between every three words) when I looked around at Lord
Orville, I saw such extreme surprise in his face,-the cause of which
appeared so absurd, that I could not for my life preserve my gravity.


I had not laughed before from the time I had left Miss Mirvan, and I
had much better have cried then; Lord Orville actually stared at me;
the beau, I know not his name, looked quite enraged. "Refrain-Madam,"
said he, with an important air, "a few moments refrain!-I have but
a sentence to trouble you with.-May I know to what accident I must
attribute not having the honour of your hand?"


"Accident, Sir!" repeated I, much astonished.


"Yes, accident, Madam;-for surely,-I must take the liberty to
observe-pardon me, Madam,-it ought to be no common one-that should
tempt a lady-so young a one too,-to be guilty of ill-manners."


A confused idea now for the first time entered my head, of something
I had heard of the rules of an assembly; but I was never at one
before,-I have only danced at school,-and so giddy and heedless I
was, that I had not once considered the impropriety of refusing one
partner, and afterwards accepting another. I was thunderstruck at the
recollection: but, while these thoughts were rushing into my head,
Lord Orville with some warmth, said, "This Lady, Sir, is incapable
of meriting such an accusation!"


The creature-for I am very angry with him-made a low bow and with a
grin the most malicious I ever saw, "My Lord," said he, "far be it
from me to accuse the lady, for having the discernment to distinguish
and prefer-the superior attractions of your Lordship."


Again he bowed and walked off.


Was ever any thing so provoking? I was ready to die with shame. "What
a coxcomb!" exclaimed Lord Orville: while I, without knowing what
I did, rose hastily, and moving off, "I can't imagine," cried I,
"where Mrs. Mirvan has hid herself!"


"Give me leave to see," answered he. I bowed and sat down again,
not daring to meet his eyes; for what must he think of me, between
my blunder, and the supposed preference?


He returned in a moment, and told me that Mrs. Mirvan was at cards,
but would be glad to see me; and I went immediately. There was but
one chair vacant; so, to my great relief, Lord Orville presently left
us. I then told Mrs.  Mirvan my disasters; and she good-naturedly
blamed herself for not having better instructed me; but said, she had
taken it for granted that I must know such common customs. However,
the man may, I think, be satisfied with his pretty speech and carry
his resentment no farther.


In a short time Lord Orville returned. I consented, with the best grace
I could, to go down another dance, for I had had time to recollect
myself; and therefore resolved to use some exertion, and, if possible,
to appear less a fool than I had hitherto done; for it occurred to me,
that, insignificant as I was, compared to a man of his rank and figure;
yet, since he had been so unfortunate as to make choice of me for a
partner, why I should endeavour to make the best of it.


The dance, however, was short, and he spoke very little; so I had no
opportunity of putting my resolution in practice. He was satisfied, I
suppose, with his former successless efforts to draw me out or, rather,
I fancied he had been inquiring who I was. This again disconcerted me;
and the spirits I had determined to exert, again failed me. Tired,
ashamed, and mortified, I begged to sit down till we returned home,
which I did soon after. Lord Orville did me the honour to hand me to
the coach, talking all the way of the honour I had done him! O these
fashionable people!


Well, my dear Sir, was it not a strange evening? I could not help
being thus particular, because, to me, every thing is so new. But it
is now time to conclude. I am, with all love and duty, your EVELINA.


LETTER XII

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Tuesday, April 5.


THERE is to be no end to the troubles of last night. I have this
moment, between persuasion and laughter, gathered from Maria the most
curious dialogue that ever I heard. You will at first be startled at
my vanity; but, my dear Sir, have patience!


It must have passed while I was sitting with Mrs. Mirvan, in the
card-room.  Maria was taking some refreshment, and saw Lord Orville
advancing for the same purpose himself; but he did not know her,
though she immediately recollected him. Presently after, a very
gay-looking man, stepping hastily up to him cried, "Why, my Lord,
what have you done with your lovely partner?"


"Nothing!" answered Lord Orville with a smile and a shrug.


"By Jove," cried the man, "she is the most beautiful creature I ever
saw in my life!"


Lord Orville, as he well might, laughed; but answered, "Yes, a pretty
modest-looking girl."


"O my Lord!" cried the madman, "she is an angel!"


"A silent one," returned he.


"Why ay, my Lord, how stands she as to that? She looks all intelligence
and expression."


"A poor weak girl!" answered Lord Orville, shaking his head.


"By Jove," cried the other, "I am glad to hear it!"


At that moment, the same odious creature who had been my former
tormentor, joined them. Addressing Lord Orville with great respect,
he said, "I beg pardon, my Lord,-if I was-as I fear might be the
case-rather too severe in my censure of the lady who is honoured with
your protection-but, my Lord, ill-breeding is apt to provoke a man."


"Ill-breeding!" cried my unknown champion, "impossible! that elegant
face can never be so vile a mask!"


"O Sir, as to that," answered he, "you must allow me to judge;
for though I pay all deference to your opinion-in other things-yet
I hope you will grant-and I appeal to your Lordship also-that I am
not totally despicable as a judge of good or ill-manners."


"I was so wholly ignorant," said Lord Orville, gravely, "of the
provocation you might have had, that I could not but be surprised at
your singular resentment."


"It was far from my intention," answered he, "to offend your lordship;
but, really, for a person who is nobody, to give herself such airs,-I
own I could not command my passion. For, my Lord, though I have made
diligent inquiry-I cannot learn who she is."


"By what I can make out," cried my defender, "she must be a country
parson's daughter."


"He! he! he! very good, 'pon honour!" cried the fop;-"well, so I
could have sworn by her manners."


And then, delighted at his own wit, he laughed, and went away, as I
suppose, to repeat it.


"But what the deuce is all this?" demanded the other.


"Why a very foolish affair," answered Lord Orville; "your Helen
first refused this coxcomb, and then-danced with me. This is all I
can gather of it."


"O, Orville," returned he, "you are a happy man!-But ill-bred? -I
can never believe it! And she looks too sensible to be ignorant."


"Whether ignorant or mischievous, I will not pretend to determine;
but certain it is, she attended to all I could say to her, though I
have really fatigued myself with fruitless endeavours to entertain
her, with the most immovable gravity; but no sooner did Lovel begin
his complaint, than she was seized with a fit of laughing, first
affronting the poor beau, and then enjoying his mortification."


"Ha! ha! ha! why there is some genius in that, my Lord, perhaps
rather-rustic."


Here Maria was called to dance, and so heard no more.


Now, tell me, my dear Sir, did you ever know any thing more
provoking? "A poor weak girl!" "ignorant or mischievous!" What
mortifying words! I am resolved, however, that I will never again be
tempted to go to an assembly. I wish I had been in Dorsetshire.


Well, after this, you will not be surprised that Lord Orville contented
himself with an inquiry after our healths this morning, by his servant,
without troubling himself to call, as Miss Mirvan had told me he would;
but perhaps it may be only a country custom.


I would not live here for the world. I care not how soon we
leave town. London soon grows tiresome. I wish the Captain would
come. Mrs. Mirvan talks of the opera for this evening; however,
I am very indifferent about it.  Wednesday Morning.


Well, my dear Sir, I have been pleased against my will, I could almost
say; for I must own I went out in very ill humour, which I think you
cannot wonder at: but the music and the singing were charming; they
soothed me into a pleasure the most grateful, the best suited to my
present disposition in the world. I hope to persuade Mrs. Mirvan to
go again on Saturday. I wish the opera was every night. It is, of all
entertainments, the sweetest and most delightful. Some of the songs
seemed to melt my very soul. It was what they call a serious opera,
as the comic first singer was ill.


To-night we go to Ranelagh. If any of those three gentlemen who
conversed so freely about me should be there-but I won't think of it.
Thursday Morning.


Well, my dear Sir, we went to Ranelagh. It is a charming place; and
the brilliancy of the lights, on my first entrance, made me almost
think I was in some enchanted castle or fairy palace, for all looked
like magic to me.


The very first person I saw was Lord Orville. I felt so confused!-but
he did not see me. After tea, Mrs. Mirvan being tired, Maria and
I walked round the room alone. Then again we saw him, standing by
the orchestra. We, too, stopt to hear a singer. He bowed to me; I
courtesied, and I am sure I coloured. We soon walked on, not liking
our situation; however, he did not follow us; and when we passed by
the orchestra again, he was gone. Afterwards, in the course of the
evening, we met him several times; but he was always with some party,
and never spoke to us, though whenever he chanced to meet my eyes,
he condescended to bow.


I cannot but be hurt at the opinion he entertains of me. It is true
my own behaviour incurred it-yet he is himself the most agreeable,
and, seemingly, the most amiable man in the world, and therefore it
is that I am grieved to be thought ill of by him: for of whose esteem
ought we to be ambitious, if not of those who most merit our own?-But
it is too late to reflect upon this now. Well I can't help it.-However,
I think I have done with assemblies.


This morning was destined for seeing sights, auctions, curious shops,
and so forth; but my head ached, and I was not in a humour to be
amused, and so I made them go without me, though very unwillingly. They
are all kindness.


And now I am sorry I did not accompany them, for I know not what
to do with myself. I had resolved not to go to the play to-night;
but I believe I shall.  In short, I hardly care whether I do or not.
* * * * *


I thought I had done wrong! Mrs. Mirvan and Maria have been half the
town over, and so entertained!-while I, like a fool, staid at home
to do nothing.  And, at the auction in Pall-mall, who should they
meet but Lord Orville. He sat next to Mrs. Mirvan, and they talked
a great deal together; but she gave me no account of the conversation.


I may never have such another opportunity of seeing London; I am quite
sorry that I was not of the party; but I deserve this mortification,
for having indulged my ill-humour.  Thursday Night.


We are just returned from the play, which was King Lear, and has made
me very sad. We did not see any body we knew.


Well, adieu, it is too late to write more.  Friday.


Captain Mirvan is arrived. I have not spirits to give an account of
his introduction, for he has really shocked me. I do not like him. He
seems to be surly, vulgar, and disagreeable.


Almost the same moment that Maria was presented to him, he began
some rude jests upon the bad shape of her nose, and called her a tall
ill-formed thing.  She bore it with the utmost good-humour; but that
kind and sweet-tempered woman, Mrs. Mirvan, deserved a better lot. I
am amazed she would marry him.


For my own part, I have been so shy, that I have hardly spoken to
him, or he to me. I cannot imagine why the family was so rejoiced
at his return. If he had spent his whole life abroad, I should have
supposed they might rather have been thankful than sorrowful. However,
I hope they do not think so ill of him as I do. At least, I am sure
they have too much prudence to make it known.  Saturday Night.


We have been to the opera, and I am still more pleased than I was
on Tuesday.  I could have thought myself in Paradise, but for the
continual talking of the company around me. We sat in the pit, where
every body was dressed in so high a style, that if I had been less
delighted with the performance, my eyes would have found me sufficient
entertainment from looking at the ladies.


I was very glad I did not sit next the Captain; for he could not bear
the music or singers, and was extremely gross in his observations
of both. When the opera was over, we went into a place called the
coffee-room where ladies, as well as gentlemen, assemble. There are
all sorts of refreshments, and the company walk about, and chat with
the same ease and freedom as in a private room.


On Monday we go to a ridotto, and on Wednesday we return to Howard
Grove. The Captain says he won't stay here to be smoked with filth
any longer; but, having been seven years smoked with a burning sun,
he will retire to the country, and sink into a fair weather chap.
Adieu, my dear Sir.


LETTER XIII

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Tuesday, April 12.  My dear Sir,


WE came home from the ridotto so late, or rather so early that it
was not possible for me to write. Indeed, we did not go -you will be
frightened to hear it-till past eleven o'clock: but no body does. A
terrible reverse of the order of nature! We sleep with the sun,
and wake with the moon.


The room was very magnificent, the lights and decorations were
brilliant, and the company gay and splendid. But I should have told
you, that I made many objections to being of the party, according
to the resolution I had formed.  However, Maria laughed me out of my
scruples, and so once again I went to an assembly.


Miss Mirvan danced a minuet; but I had not the courage to follow
her example.  In our walks I saw Lord Orville. He was quite alone,
but did not observe us.  Yet, as he seemed of no party, I thought
it was not impossible that he might join us; and though I did not
wish much to dance at all-yet, as I was more acquainted with him
than with any other person in the room, I must own I could not help
thinking it would be infinitely more desirable to dance again with him
than with an entire stranger. To be sure, after all that had passed,
it was very ridiculous to suppose it even probable that Lord Orville
would again honour me with his choice; yet I am compelled to confess
my absurdity, by way of explaining what follows.


Miss Mirvan was soon engaged; and presently after a very fashionable
gay looking man, who seemed about thirty years of age, addressed
himself to me, and begged to have the honour of dancing with me. Now
Maria's partner was a gentleman of Mrs. Mirvan's acquaintance; for
she had told us it was highly improper for young women to dance with
strangers at any public assembly.  Indeed it was by no means my wish
so to do: yet I did not like to confine myself from dancing at all;
neither did I dare refuse this gentleman as I had done Mr. Lovel,
and then, if any acquaintance should offer, accept him: and so, all
these reasons combining, induced me to tell him-yet I blush to write
it to you!-that I was already engaged; by which I meant to keep myself
at liberty to a dance, or not, as matters should fall out.


I suppose my consciousness betrayed my artifice, for he looked at me
as if incredulous; and, instead of being satisfied with my answer
and leaving me, according to my expectation, he walked at my side,
and, with the greatest ease imaginable, began a conversation in the
free style which only belongs to old and intimate acquaintance. But,
what was most provoking, he asked me a thousand questions concerning
the partner to whom I was engaged. And at last he said, "Is it really
possible that a man whom you have honoured with your acceptance can
fail to be at hand to profit from your goodness?"


I felt extremely foolish; and begged Mrs. Mirvan to lead to a seat;
which she very obligingly did. The Captain sat next her; and to my
great surprise, this gentleman thought proper to follow, and seat
himself next to me.


"What an insensible!" continued he; "why, Madam, you are missing the
most delightful dance in the world!-The man must be either mad or a
fool-Which do you incline to think him yourself?"


"Neither, Sir," answered I, in some confusion.


He begged my pardon for the freedom of his supposition, saying,
"I really was off my guard, from astonishment that any man can be
so much and so unaccountably his own enemy. But where, Madam, can he
possibly be!-has he left the room!-or has not he been in it?"


"Indeed, Sir," said I peevishly, "I know nothing of him."


"I don't wonder that you are disconcerted, Madam; it is really very
provoking.  The best part of the evening will be absolutely lost. He
deserves not that you should wait for him."


"I do not, Sir," said I, "and I beg you not to-"


"Mortifying, indeed, Madam," interrupted he, "a lady to wait for a
gentleman!-O fie!-careless fellow!-What can detain him?-Will you give
me leave to seek him?"


"If you please, Sir," answered I; quite terrified lest Mrs. Mirvan
should attend to him; for she looked very much surprised at seeing
me enter into conversation with a stranger.


"With all my heart," cried he; "pray, what coat has he on?"


"Indeed I never looked at it."


"Out upon him!" cried he; "What! did he address you in a coat not
worth looking at?-What a shabby wretch!"


How ridiculous! I really could not help laughing, which I fear
encouraged him, for he went on.


"Charming creature!-and can you really bear ill usage with so much
sweetness?  Can you, like patience on a monument, smile in the midst
of disappointment?  For my part, though I am not the offended person,
my indignation is so great, that I long to kick the fellow round
the room!-unless, indeed,-(hesitating and looking earnestly at me,)
unless, indeed,-it is a partner of your own creating?"


I was dreadfully abashed, and could not make an answer.


"But no!" cried he (again, and with warmth,) "It cannot be that you
are so cruel! Softness itself is painted in your eyes.-You could not,
surely, have the barbarity so wantonly to trifle with my misery."


I turned away from this nonsense with real disgust, Mrs. Mirvan saw
my confusion, but was perplexed what to think of it, and I could
not explain to her the cause, lest the Captain should hear me. I
therefore proposed to walk; she consented, and we all rose; but,
would you believe it? this man had the assurance to rise too, and
walk close by my side, as if of my party!


"Now," cried he, "I hope we shall see this ingrate.-Is that
he?"-pointing to an old man who was lame, "or that?" And in this
manner he asked me of whoever was old or ugly in the room. I made
no sort of answer: and when he found that I was resolutely silent,
and walked on as much as I could without observing him, he suddenly
stamped his foot, and cried out in a passion, "Fool! idiot!  booby!"


I turned hastily toward him: "O, Madam," continued he, "forgive my
vehemence; but I am distracted to think there should exist a wretch
who can slight a blessing for which I would forfeit my life!-O that I
could but meet him, I would soon-But I grow angry: pardon me, Madam,
my passions are violent, and your injuries affect me!"


I began to apprehend he was a madman, and stared at him with the
utmost astonishment. "I see you are moved, Madam," said he; "generous
creature!-but don't be alarmed, I am cool again, I am indeed,-upon
my soul I am;-I entreat you, most lovely of mortals! I intreat you
to be easy."


"Indeed, Sir," said I very seriously, "I must insist upon your leaving
me; you are quite a stranger to me, and I am both unused, and averse
to your language and your manners."


This seemed to have some effect on him. He made me a low bow, begged
my pardon, and vowed he would not for the world offend me.


"Then, Sir, you must leave me," cried I. "I am gone, Madam, I am
gone!" with a most tragical air; and he marched away at a quick pace,
out of sight in a moment; but before I had time to congratulate myself,
he was again at my elbow.


"And could you really let me go, and not be sorry?-Can you see me
suffer torments inexpressible, and yet retain all your favour for
that miscreant who flies you?-Ungrateful puppy!-I could bastinado him!"


"For Heaven's sake, my dear," cried Mrs. Mirvan, "who is he talking
of?"


"Indeed-I do not know, Madam," said I; "but I wish he would leave me."


"What's all that there?" cried the Captain.


The man made a low bow, and said, "Only, Sir, a slight objection
which this young lady makes to dancing with me, and which I am
endeavouring to obviate.  I shall think myself greatly honoured if
you will intercede for me."


"That lady, Sir," said the Captain coldly, "is her own mistress." And
he walked sullenly on.


"You, Madam," said the man (who looked delighted, to Mrs. Mirvan),
"You, I hope, will have the goodness to speak for me."


"Sir," answered she gravely, "I have not the pleasure of being
acquainted with you."


"I hope when you have, Ma'am," cried he, undaunted, "you will honour
me with your approbation: but, while I am yet unknown to you, it would
be truly generous in you to countenance me; and I flatter myself,
Madam, that you will not have cause to repent it."


Mrs. Mirvan, with an embarrassed air, replied, "I do not at all mean,
Sir, to doubt your being a gentleman,-but-"


"But what, Madam?-that doubt removed, why a but?"


"Well, Sir," said Mrs. Mirvan (with a good humoured smile), "I will
even treat you with your own plainness, and try what effect that will
have on you: I must therefore tell you, once for all-"


"O pardon me, Madam!" interrupted he, eagerly, "you must not proceed
with those words once for all; no, if I have been too plain, and
though a man, deserve a rebuke, remember, dear ladies that if you copy,
you ought in justice to excuse me."


We both stared at the man's strange behaviour.


"Be nobler than your sex," continued he, turning to me, "honour me
with one dance, and give up the ingrate who has merited so ill your
patience."


Mrs. Mirvan looked with astonishment at us both.


"Who does he speak of, my dear?-you never mentioned-"


"O, Madam!" exclaimed he, "he was not worth mentioning-it is a pity he
was ever though of; but let us forget his existence. One dance is all
I solicit.  Permit me, Madam, the honour of this young lady's hand;
it will be a favour I shall ever most gratefully acknowledge."


"Sir," answered she, "favours and strangers have with me no
connection."


"If you have hitherto," said he, "confined your benevolence to your
intimate friends, suffer me to be the first for whom your charity
is enlarged."


"Well, Sir, I know not what to say to you,-but-"


He stopt her but with so many urgent entreaties that she at last told
me, I must either go down one dance, or avoid his importunities by
returning home.  I hesitated which alternative to chose; but this
impetuous man at length prevailed, and I was obliged to consent to
dance with him.


And thus was my deviation from truth punished; and thus did this
man's determined boldness conquer.


During the dance, before we were too much engaged in it for
conversation, he was extremely provoking about my partner, and tried
every means in his power to make me own that I had deceived him;
which, though I would not so far humble myself as to acknowledge,
was indeed but too obvious.


Lord Orville, I fancy, did not dance at all. He seemed to have a
large acquaintance, and joined several different parties: but you
will easily suppose, I was not much pleased to see him, in a few
minutes after I was gone, walk towards the place I had just left,
and bow to and join Mrs. Mirvan!


How unlucky I thought myself, that I had not longer withstood this
stranger's importunities! The moment we had gone down the dance, I was
hastening away from him; but he stopt me, and said, that I could by no
means return to my party without giving offence, before we had done
our duty of walking up the dance. As I know nothing at all of these
rules and customs I was obliged to submit to his directions; but I
fancy I looked rather uneasy, for he took notice of my inattention,
saying, in his free way, "Whence that anxiety?-Why are those lovely
eyes perpetually averted?"


"I wish you would say no more to me, Sir," cried I peevishly; "you
have already destroyed all my happiness for this evening."


"Good Heaven! What is it I have done?-How have I merited this scorn?"


"You have tormented me to death; you have forced me from my friends,
and intruded yourself upon me, against my will, for a partner."


"Surely, my dear Madam, we ought to be better friends, since
there seems to be something of sympathy in the frankness of our
dispositions.-And yet, were you not an angel-how do you think I could
brooke such contempt?"


"If I have offended you," cried I, "you have but to leave me-and O
how I wish you would!"


"My dear creature," said he, half laughing, "why where could you
be educated?"


"Where I most sincerely wish I now was!"


"How conscious you must be, all beautiful that you are, that those
charming airs serve only to heighten the bloom of your complexion!"


"Your freedom, Sir, where you are more acquainted, may perhaps be
less disagreeable; but to me -"


"You do me justice," cried he, interrupting me, "yes, I do indeed
improve upon acquaintance; you will hereafter be quite charmed
with me."


"Hereafter, Sir, I hope I shall never-"


"O hush!-hush!-have you forgot the situation in which I found you?-Have
you forgot, that when deserted, I pursued you,-when betrayed, I adored
you?-but for me-"


"But for you, Sir, I might perhaps have been happy."


"What then, am I to conclude that, but for me, your partner would
have appeared?-poor fellow!-and did my presence awe him?"


"I wish his presence, Sir, could awe you!"


"His presence!-perhaps then you see him?"


"Perhaps, Sir, I do," cried I, quite wearied of his raillery.


"Where? Where?-for Heaven's sake show me the wretch!"


"Wretch, Sir!"


"O, a very savage!-a sneaking, shame-faced, despicable puppy!"


I know not what bewitched me-but my pride was hurt, and my spirits
were tired, and-in short, I had the folly, looking at Lord Orville,
to repeat, "Despicable, you think?"


His eyes instantly followed mine; "Why, is that the gentleman?"


I made no answer; I could not affirm, and I would not deny:-for I
hoped to be relieved from his teasing by his mistake.


The very moment we had done what he called our duty, I eagerly desired
to return to Mrs. Mirvan.


"To your partner, I presume, Madam?" said he, very gravely.


This quite confounded me. I dreaded lest this mischievous man ignorant
of his rank, should address himself to Lord Orville, and say something
which might expose my artifice. Fool! to involve myself in such
difficulties! I now feared what I had before wished; and therefore,
to avoid Lord Orville, I was obliged myself to propose going down
another dance, though I was ready to sink with shame while I spoke.


"But your partner, Ma'am?" said he, affecting a very solemn air,
"perhaps he may resent my detaining you: if you will give me leave
to ask his consent-"


"Not for the universe."


"Who is he, Madam?"


I wished myself a hundred miles off. He repeated his question,
"What is his name?"


"Nothing-nobody-I don't know-"


He assumed a most important solemnity: "How!-not know?-Give me leave,
my dear Madam, to recommend this caution to you: Never dance in public
with a stranger,-with one whose name you are unacquainted with,-who
may be a mere adventurer,-a man of no character, consider to what
impertinence you may expose yourself."


Was ever anything so ridiculous? I could not help laughing, in spite
of my vexation.


At this instant, Mrs. Mirvan, followed by Lord Orville, walked up to
us. You will easily believe it was not difficult for me to recover
my gravity; but what was my consternation, when this strange man,
destined to be the scourge of my artifice, exclaimed, "Ha! My Lord
Orville!-I protest I did not know your Lordship. What can I say for my
usurpation?-Yet, faith, my Lord, such a prize was not to be neglected."


My shame and confusion were unspeakable. Who could have supposed or
foreseen that this man knew Lord Orville? But falsehood is not more
unjustifiable than unsafe.


Lord Orville-well he might-looked all amazement.


"The philosophic coldness of your Lordship," continued this odious
creature, "every man is not endowed with. I have used my utmost
endeavours to entertain this lady, though I fear without success;
and your lordship will not be a little flattered, if acquainted with
the difficulty which attended my procuring the honour of only one
dance." Then, turning to me, who was sinking with shame, while Lord
Orville stood motionless, and Mrs. Mirvan astonished,-he suddenly
seized my hand, saying, "Think, my Lord, what must be my reluctance
to resign this fair hand to your Lordship!"


In the same instant, Lord Orville took it of him; I coloured violently,
and made an effort to recover it. "You do me too much honour, Sir,"
cried he, (with an air of gallantry, pressing it to his lips before
he let it go;) "however, I shall be happy to profit by it, if this
lady," turning to Mrs.  Mirvan, "will permit me to seek for her party."


To compel him thus to dance, I could not endure; and eagerly called
out, "By no means-not for the world!-I must beg-"


"Will you honour me, Madam, with your commands," cried my tormentor;
"may I seek the lady's party?"


"No, Sir," answered I, turning from him.


"What shall be done, my dear?" said Mrs. Mirvan.


"Nothing, Ma'am;-anything, I mean-"


"But do you dance, or not? you see his Lordship waits."


"I hope not-I beg that-I would not for the world-I am sure I ought
to-to-"


I could not speak; but that confident man, determining to discover
whether or not I had deceived him, said to Lord Orville, who
stood suspended, "My Lord, this affair, which at present seems
perplexed, I will briefly explain:-this lady proposed to me another
dance,-nothing could have made me more happy,-I only wished for your
Lordship's permission; which, if now granted, will, I am persuaded,
set everything right."


I glowed with indignation. "No, Sir-it is your absence, and that alone,
can set everything right."


"For Heaven's sake, my dear," cried Mrs. Mirvan, who could no
longer contain her surprise, "what does all this mean?-were you
pre-engaged?-had Lord Orville-"


"No, Madam," cried I, "only-only I did not know that gentleman,-and
so-and so I thought-I intended-I-"


Overpowered by all that had passed, I had not strength to make my
mortifying explanation;-my spirits quite failed me, and I burst
into tears.


They all seemed shocked and amazed.


"What is the matter, my dearest love?" cried Mrs. Mirvan, with
kindest concern.


"What have I done!" exclaimed my evil genius, and ran officiously
for a glass of water.


However, a hint was sufficient for Lord Orville, who comprehended all
I would have explained. He immediately led me to a seat, and said in
a low voice, "Be not distressed, I beseech you: I shall ever think
my name honoured by your making use of it."


This politeness relieved me. A general murmur had alarmed Miss Mirvan,
who flew instantly to me; while Lord Orville the moment Mrs. Mirvan
had taken the water, led my tormentor away.


"For Heaven's sake, dear Madam," cried I, "let me go home;-indeed I
cannot stay here any longer."


"Let us all go," cried my kind Maria.


"But the Captain, what will he say-I had better go home in a chair."


Mrs. Mirvan consented, and I rose to depart. Lord Orville and that
man both came to me. The first, with an attention I but ill-merited
from him, led me to a chair; while the other followed, pestering me
with apologies. I wished to have made mine to Lord Orville, but was
too much ashamed.


It was about one o'clock. Mrs. Mirvan's servants saw me home.


And now,-what again shall ever tempt me to an assembly? I dread to
hear what you will think of me, my most dear and honoured Sir: you
will need your utmost partiality to receive me without displeasure.


This morning Lord Orville has sent to inquire after our health; and
Sir Clement Willoughby, for that, I find, is the name of my persecutor,
has called; but I would not go down stairs till he was gone.


And now, my dear Sir, I can somewhat account for the strange,
provoking, and ridiculous conduct of this Sir Clement last night;
for Miss Mirvan says he is the very man with whom she heard Lord
Orville conversing at Mrs. Stanley's, when I was spoken of in so
mortifying a manner. He was pleased to say he was glad to hear I was
a fool; and therefore, I suppose, he concluded he might talk as much
nonsense as he pleased to me: however, I am very indifferent as to
his opinion;-but for Lord Orville,-if then he thought me an idiot,
now, I am sure, he must suppose me both bold and presuming. Make use
of his name!-what impertinence-he can never know how it happened,-he
can only imagine it was from an excess of vanity;-well, however,
I shall leave this bad city to-morrow, and never again will I enter it.


The Captain intends to take us to-night to the Fantoccini. I cannot
bear that Captain; I can give you no idea how gross he is. I heartily
rejoice that he was not present at the disagreeable conclusion of
yesterday's adventure, for I am sure he would have contributed to my
confusion; which might, perhaps, have diverted him, as he seldom or
never smiles but at some other person's expense.


And here I conclude my London letters,-and without any regret; for I
am too inexperienced and ignorant to conduct myself with propriety
in this town, where everything is new to me, and many things are
unaccountable and perplexing.


Adieu, my dear Sir; Heaven restore me safely to you! I wish I was to go
immediately to Berry Hill; yet the wish is ungrateful to Mrs. Mirvan,
and therefore I will repress it. I shall write an account of the
Fantoccini from Howard Grove. We have not been to half the public
places that are now open, though I dare say you will think we have
been to all. But they are almost as innumerable as the persons who
fill them.


LETTER XIV.

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION.  Queen Ann Street, April 13.


HOW much will you be surprised, my dearest Sir, at receiving another
letter, from London, of your Evelina's writing! But, believe me, it
was not my fault, neither is it my happiness, that I am still here:
our journey has been postponed by an accident equally unexpected
and disagreeable.


We went last night to see the Fantoccini, where we had infinite
entertainment from the performance of a little comedy in French and
Italian, by puppets, so admirably managed, that they both astonished
and diverted us all, except the Captain, who has a fixed and most
prejudiced hatred of whatever is not English.


When it was over, while we waited for the coach, a tall elderly woman
brushed quickly past us, calling out, "My God, what shall I do?"


"Why, what would you do?" cried the Captain.


"Ma foi, Monsieur," answered she, "I have lost my company, and in
this place I don't know nobody."


There was something foreign in her accent, though it was difficult
to discover whether she was an English or a French woman. She was
very well dressed; and seemed so entirely at a loss what to do,
that Mrs. Mirvan proposed to the Captain to assist her.


"Assist her!" cried he, "ay, with all my heart;-let a link-boy call
her a coach."


There was not one to be had, and it rained very fast.


"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the stranger, "what shall become of me? Je
suis au desespoir!"


"Dear Sir," cried Miss Mirvan, "pray let us take the poor lady into
our coach.  She is quite alone, and a foreigner-"


"She's never the better for that," answered he: "she may be a woman
of the town, for anything you know."


"She does not appear such," said Mrs. Mirvan; "and indeed she seems
so much distressed, that we shall but follow the golden rule, if we
carry her to her lodgings."


"You are mighty fond of new acquaintance," returned he; "but first
let us know if she be going our way."


Upon inquiry, we found that she lived in Oxford Road; and, after
some disputing, the Captain surlily, and, with a very bad grace,
consented to admit her into his coach; though he soon convinced us,
that he was determined she should not be too much obliged to him,
for he seemed absolutely bent upon quarrelling with her: for which
strange inhospitality I can assign no other reason, than that she
appeared to be a foreigner.


The conversation began, by her telling us, that she had been in England
only two days; that the gentlemen belonging to her were Parisians,
and had left her to see for a hackney-coach, as her own carriage was
abroad; and that she had waited for them till she was quite frightened,
and concluded that they had lost themselves.


"And pray," said the Captain, "why did you go to a public place
without an Englishman?"


"Ma foi, Sir," answered she, "because none of my acquaintance is
in town."


"Why then," said he, "I'll tell you what, your best way is to go out
of it yourself."


"Pardi, Monsieur," returned she, "and so I shall; for, I promise you,
I think the English a parcel of brutes; and I'll go back to France
as fast as I can, for I would not live among none of you."


"Who wants you?" cried the Captain: "do you suppose, Madam French,
we have not enough of other nations to pick our pockets already? I'll
warrant you, there's no need for you for to put in your oar."


"Pick your pockets, Sir! I wish nobody wanted to pick your pockets no
more than I do; and I'll promise you you'd be safe enough. But there's
no nation under the sun can beat the English for ill-politeness:
for my part, I hate the very sight of them; and so I shall only
just visit a person of quality or two of my particular acquaintance,
and then I shall go back again to France."


"Ay, do," cried he; "and then go to the devil together, for that's
the fittest voyage for the French and the quality."


"We'll take care, however," cried the stranger with great vehemence,
"not to admit none of your vulgar unmannered English among us."


"O never fear," returned he, coolly, "we shan't dispute the point
with you; you and the quality may have the devil all to yourselves."


Desirous of changing the subject of a conversation which now became
very alarming, Miss Mirvan called out, "Lord, how slow the man drives!"


"Never mind, Moll," said her father, "I'll warrant you he'll drive
fast enough to-morrow, when you are going to Howard Grove."


"To Howard Grove!" exclaimed the stranger, "why, mon Dieu, do you
know Lady Howard?"


"Why, what if we do?" answered he; "that's nothing to you; she's none
of your quality, I'll promise you."


"Who told you that?" cried she; "you don't know nothing about the
matter!  besides, you're the ill-bredest person ever I see: and as
to your knowing Lady Howard, I don't believe no such a thing; unless,
indeed, you are her steward."


The Captain, swearing terribly, said, with great fury, "You would
much sooner be taken for her wash-woman."


"Her wash-woman, indeed?-Ha, ha, ha, why you han't no eyes; did you
ever see a wash-woman in such a gown as this?-Besides, I'm no such
mean person, for I'm as good as Lady Howard, and as rich too; and
besides, I'm now come to England to visit her."


"You may spare yourself that there trouble," said the Captain,
"she has paupers enough about her already."


"Paupers, Mister!-no more a pauper than yourself, nor so much
neither;-but you are a low, dirty fellow, and I shan't stoop to take
no more notice of you."


"Dirty fellow!" exclaimed the Captain, seizing both her wrists, "hark
you, Mrs. Frog, you'd best hold your tongue; for I must make bold to
tell you, if you don't, that I shall make no ceremony of tripping you
out of the window, and there you may lie in the mud till some of your
Monseers come to help you out of it."


Their increasing passion quite terrified us; and Mrs. Mirvan was
beginning to remonstrate with the Captain, when we were all silenced
by what follows.


"Let me go, villain that you are, let me go, or I'll promise you I'll
get you put to prison for this usage. I'm no common person, I assure
you; and, ma foi, I'll go to Justice Fielding about you; for I'm a
person of fashion, and I'll make you know it, or my name a'n't Duval."


I heard no more: amazed, frightened, and unspeakably shocked, an
involuntary exclamation of Gracious Heaven! escaped me, and, more
dead than alive, I sunk into Mrs. Mirvan's arms. But let me draw a
veil over a scene too cruel for a heart so compassionately tender as
your's; it is sufficient that you know this supposed foreigner proved
to be Madame Duval,-the grandmother of your Evelina!


O, Sir, to discover so near a relation in a woman, who had thus
introduced herself!-what would become of me, were it not for you,
my protector, my friend, and my refuge?


My extreme concern, and Mrs. Mirvan's surprise, immediately betrayed
me. But, I will not shock you with the manner of her acknowledging
me, or the bitterness, the grossness -I cannot otherwise express
myself,-with which she spoke of those unhappy past transactions
you have so pathetically related to me. All the misery of a much
injured parent, dear, though never seen, regretted, though never
known, crowded so forcibly upon my memory, that they rendered this
interview-one only excepted-the most afflicting I can ever know.


When we stopt at her lodgings, she desired me to accompany her into
the house, and said she could easily procure a room for me to sleep
in. Alarmed and trembling, I turned to Mrs. Mirvan. "My daughter,
Madam," said that sweet woman, "cannot so abruptly part with her young
friend; you must allow a little time to wean them from each other."


"Pardon me, Ma'am," answered Madame Duval, (who, from the time of her
being known, somewhat softened her manners) "Miss can't possibly be
so nearly connected to this child as I am."


"No matter for that," cried the Captain, (who espoused my cause to
satisfy his own pique, tho' an awkward apology had passed between them)
"she was sent to us; and so, dy'e see, we don't choose for to part
with her."


I promised to wait upon her at what time she pleased the next day;
and, after a short debate, she desired me to breakfast with her,
and we proceeded to Queen Ann Street.


What an unfortunate adventure! I could not close my eyes the whole
night. A thousand times I wished I had never left Berry Hill: however,
my return thither shall be accelerated to the utmost of my power;
and, once more in that abode of tranquil happiness, I will suffer no
temptation to allure me elsewhere.


Mrs. Mirvan was so kind as to accompany me to Madame Duval's house
this morning. The Captain, too, offered his service; which I declined,
from a fear she should suppose I meant to insult her.


She frowned most terribly upon Mrs. Mirvan; but she received me with
as much tenderness as I believe she is capable of feeling. Indeed,
our meeting seems really to have affected her; for when, overcome by
the variety of emotions which the sight of her occasioned, I almost
fainted in her arms, she burst into tears, and said, "let me not lose
my poor daughter a second time!" This unexpected humanity softened
me extremely; but she very soon excited my warmest indignation, by
the ungrateful mention she made of the best of men, my dear and most
generous benefactor. However, grief and anger mutually gave way to
terror, upon her avowing the intention of her visiting England was
to make me return with her to France. This, she said, was a plan she
had formed from the instant she had heard of my birth; which, she
protested, did not reach her ears till I must have been twelve years
of age; but Monsieur Duval, who she declared was the worst husband
in the world, would not permit her to do any thing she wished: he
had been dead but three months; which had been employed in arranging
certain affairs, that were no sooner settled, than she set off for
England. She was already out of mourning, for she said nobody here
could tell how long she had been a widow.


She must have been married very early in life: what her age is I do
not know; but she really looks to be less than fifty. She dresses
very gaily, paints very high, and the traces of former beauty are
still very visible in her face.


I know not when, or how, this visit would have ended, had not the
Captain called for Mrs. Mirvan, and absolutely insisted upon my
attending her. He is become, very suddenly, so warmly my friend, that
I quite dread his officiousness. Mrs. Mirvan, however, whose principal
study seems to be healing those wounds which her husband inflicts,
appeased Madame Duval's wrath, by a very polite invitation to drink
tea and spend the evening here.  Not without great difficulty was
the Captain prevailed upon to defer his journey some time longer;
but what could be done? It would have been indecent for me to have
quitted town the very instant I discovered that Madame Duval was in it;
and to have staid here solely under her protection-Mrs. Mirvan, thank
Heaven, was too kind for such a thought. That she should follow us to
Howard Grove, I almost equally dreaded. It is therefore determined,
that we remain in London for some days, or a week: though the Captain
has declared that the old French hag, as he is pleased to call her,
shall fare never the better for it.


My only hope is to get safe to Berry Hill; where, counselled and
sheltered by you, I shall have nothing more to fear. Adieu, my ever
dear and most honoured Sir! I shall have no happiness till I am again
with you.


LETTER XV

MR. VILLARS TO EVELINA Berry Hill, April 16.


IN the belief and hope that my Evelina would, ere now, have bid adieu
to London, I had intended to have deferred writing, till I heard
of her return to Howard Grove; but the letter I have this moment
received, with intelligence of Madame Duval's arrival in England,
demands an immediate answer.


Her journey hither equally grieves and alarms me. How much did I
pity my child, when I read of a discovery at once so unexpected
and unwished! I have long dreaded this meeting and its consequence;
to claim you seems naturally to follow acknowledging you. I am well
acquainted with her disposition, and have for many years foreseen
the contest which now threatens us.


Cruel as are the circumstances of this affair, you must not, my
love, suffer it to depress your spirits: remember, that while life
is lent me, I will devote it to your service; and, for future time,
I will make such provisions as shall seem to me most conducive to
your future happiness. Secure of my protection, and relying on my
tenderness, let no apprehensions of Madame Duval disturb your peace:
conduct yourself towards her with all the respect and deference due
to so near a relation, remembering always, that the failure of duty
on her part, can by no means justify any neglect on your's. Indeed,
the more forcibly you are struck with improprieties and misconduct
in another, the greater should be your observance and diligence
to avoid even the shadow of similar errors. Be careful, therefore,
that no remissness of attention, no indifference of obliging, make
known to her the independence I assure you of; but when she fixes
the time for her leaving England, trust to me the task of refusing
your attending her: disagreeable to myself, I own, it will be; yet
to you it would be improper, if not impossible.


In regard to her opinion of me, I am more sorry than surprised at
her determined blindness; the palliation which she feels the want of,
for her own conduct, leads her to seek for failings in all who were
concerned in those unhapppy transactions which she has so much reason
to lament. And this, as it is the cause, so we must in some measure
consider it as the excuse of her inveteracy.


How grateful to me are your wishes to return to Berry Hill! Your
lengthened stay in London, and the dissipation in which I find you
are involved, fill me with uneasiness. I mean not, however, that I
would have you sequester yourself from the party to which you belong,
since Mrs. Mirvan might thence infer a reproof which your youth and
her kindness would render inexcusable. I will not, therefore, enlarge
upon this subject; but content myself with telling you, that I shall
heartily rejoice when I hear of your safe arrival at Howard Grove,
for which place I hope you will be preparing at the time you receive
this letter.


I cannot too much thank you, my best Evelina, for the minuteness of
your communications. Continue to me this indulgence, for I should be
miserable if in ignorance of your proceedings.


How new to you is the scene of life in which you are
engaged!-balls-plays-operas-ridottos!-Ah, my child! At your return
hither, how will you bear the change? My heart trembles for your
future tranquility.-Yet I will hope every thing from the unsullied
whiteness of your soul, and the native liveliness of your disposition.


I am sure I need not say, how much more I was pleased with the
mistakes of your inexperience at the private ball, than with the
attempted adoption of more fashionable manners at the ridotto. But
your confusion and mortifications were such as to entirely silence
all reproofs on my part.


I hope you will see no more of Sir Clement Willoughby, whose
conversation and boldness are extremely disgustful to me. I was
gratified by the good nature of Lord Orville, upon your making use
of his name; but I hope you will never again put it to such a trial.


Heaven bless thee, my dear child! And grant that neither misfortune
nor vice may ever rob thee of that gaiety of heart, which, resulting
from innocence, while it constitutes your own, contributes also to
the felicity of all who know you!  ARTHUR VILLARS.


LETTER XVI

EVELINA TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS Queen Ann Street, Thursday morning,
April 14.


BEFORE our dinner was over yesterday Madame Duval came to tea; though
it will lessen your surprise, to hear that it was near five o'clock,
for we never dine till the day is almost over. She was asked into
another room while the table was cleared, and then was invited to
partake of the dessert.


She was attended by a French gentleman, whom she introduced by the
name of Monsieur Du Bois: Mrs. Mirvan received them both with her
usual politeness; but the Captain looked very much displeased; and
after a short silence, very sternly said to Madame Duval, "Pray who
asked you to bring that there spark with you?"


"O," cried she, "I never go no where without him."


Another short silence ensued, which was terminated by the Captain's
turning roughly to the foreigner, and saying, "Do you know, Monseer,
that you are the first Frenchman I ever let come into my house?"


Monsieur Du Bois made a profound bow. He speaks no English, and
understands it so imperfectly, that he might possibly imagine he had
received a compliment.


Mrs. Mirvan endeavourd to divert the Captain's ill-humour,
by starting new subjects: but he left to her all the trouble of
supporting them, and leant back in his chair in gloomy silence,
except when any opportunity offered of uttering some sarcasm upon
the French. Finding her efforts to render the evening agreeable were
fruitless, Mrs. Mirvan proposed a party to Ranelagh.  Madame Duval
joyfully consented to it; and the Captain though he railed against
the dissipation of the women, did not oppose it; and therefore Maria
and I ran up stairs to dress ourselves.


Before we were ready, word was brought us that Sir Clement Willoughby
was in the drawing-room. He introduced himself under the pretence
of inquiring after all our healths, and entered the room with the
easy air of an old acquaintance; though Mrs. Mirvan confessed that
he seemed embarrassed when he found how coldly he was received,
not only by the Captain, but by herself.


I was extremely disconcerted at the thoughts of seeing this man again,
and did not go downstairs till I was called to tea. He was then
deeply engaged in a discourse upon French manners with Madame Duval
and the Captain; and the subject seemed so entirely to engross him,
that he did not, at first, observe my entrance into the room. Their
conversation was supported with great vehemence; the Captain roughly
maintaining the superiority of the English in every particular,
and Madame Duval warmly refusing to allow of it in any; while Sir
Clement exerted all his powers of argument and of ridicule, to second
and strengthen whatever was advanced by the Captain: for he had the
sagacity to discover, that he could take no method so effectual for
making the master of the house his friend, as to make Madame Duval his
enemy; and indeed, in a very short time, he had reason to congratulate
himself upon his successful discernment.


As soon as he saw me, he made a most respectful bow, and hoped I had
not suffered from the fatigue of the ridotto: I made no other answer
than a slight inclination of the head, for I was very much ashamed
of that whole affair. He then returned to the disputants; where he
managed the argument so skilfully, at once provoking Madame Duval,
and delighting the Captain, that I could not forbear admiring his
address, though I condemned his subtlety. Mrs.  Mirvan, dreading such
violent antagonists, attempted frequently to change the subject; and
she might have succeeded, but for the interposition of Sir Clement,
who would not suffer it to be given up, and supported it with such
humour and satire, that he seems to have won the Captain's heart;
though their united forces so enraged and overpowered Madame Duval,
that she really trembled with passion.


I was very glad when Mrs. Mirvan said it was time to be gone. Sir
Clement arose to take leave; but the Captain very cordially invited
him to join our party: he had an engagement, he said, but would give
it up to have that pleasure.


Some little confusion ensued in regard to our manner of setting
off. Mrs.  Mirvan offered Madame Duval a place in her coach, and
proposed that we four females should go all together; however, this
she rejected, declaring she would by no means go so far without a
gentleman, and wondering so polite a lady could make so English a
proposal. Sir Clement Willoughby said, his chariot was waiting at
the door, and begged to know if it could be of any use. It was at
last decided, that a hackney-coach should be called for Monsieur Du
Bois and Madame Duval, in which the Captain, and, at his request,
Sir Clement, went also; Mrs. and Miss Mirvan and I had a peaceful
and comfortable ride by ourselves.


I doubt not but they quarrelled all the way; for when we met at
Ranelagh every one seemed out of humour; and though we joined parties,
poor Madame Duval was avoided as much as possible by all but me.


The room was so very much crowded, that but for the uncommon assiduity
of Sir Clement Willoughby, we should not have been able to procure
a box (which is the name given to the arched recesses that are
appropriated for tea-parties) till half the company had retired. As
we were taking possession of our places, some ladies of Mrs. Mirvan's
acquaintance stopped to speak to her, and persuaded her to take a
round with them. When she returned to us, what was my surprise, to
see that Lord Orville had joined her party! The ladies walked on:
Mrs. Mirvan seated herself, and made a slight, though respectful,
invitation to Lord Orville to drink his tea with us; which, to my no
small consternation, he accepted.


I felt a confusion unspeakable at again seeing him, from the
recollection of the ridotto adventure: nor did my situation lessen it;
for I was seated between Madame Duval and Sir Clement, who seemed
as little as myself to desire Lord Orville's presence. Indeed, the
continual wrangling and ill-breeding of Captain Mirvan and Madame
Duval made me blush that I belonged to them. And poor Mrs. Mirvan
and her amiable daughter had still less reason to be satisfied.


A general silence ensued after he was seated: his appearance, from
different motives, gave an universal restraint to every body. What his
own reasons were for honouring us with his company, I cannot imagine;
unless, indeed, he had a curiosity to know whether I should invent
any new impertinence concerning him.


The first speech was made by Madame Duval, who said, "It's quite a
shocking thing to see ladies come to so genteel a place as Ranelagh
with hats on; it has a monstrous vulgar look: I can't think what they
wear them for. There is no such a thing to be seen in Paris."


"Indeed," cried Sir Clement, "I must own myself no advocate for
hats; I am sorry the ladies ever invented or adopted so tantalizing
a fashion: for, where there is beauty, they only serve to shade it;
and, where there is none, to excite a most unavailing curiosity. I
fancy they were originally worn by some young and whimsical coquette."


"More likely," answered the Captain, "they were invented by some
wrinkled old hag, who'd a mind for to keep the young fellows in chace,
let them be never so weary."


"I don't know what you may do in England," cried Madame Duval, "but
I know in Paris no woman needn't be at such a trouble as that to be
taken very genteel notice of."


"Why, will you pretend for to say," returned the Captain, "that they
don't distinguish the old from the young there as well as here?"


"They don't make no distinguishments at all," said she; "they're
vastly too polite."


"More fools they!" cried the Captain, sneeringly.


"Would to Heaven," cried, Sir Clement, "that, for our own sakes,
we Englishmen too were blest with so accommodating a blindness!"


"Why the devil do you make such a prayer as that?" demanded the
Captain: "them are the first foolish words I've heard you speak;
but I suppose you're not much used to that sort of work. Did you ever
make a prayer before, since you were a sniveler?"


"Ay, now," cried Madame Duval, "that's another of the unpolitenesses
of you English, to go to talking of such things as that: now in Paris
nobody never says nothing about religion, no more than about politics."


"Why then," answered he, "it's a sign they take no more care of
their souls than of their country, and so both one and t'other go to
old Nick."


"Well, if they do," said she, "who's the worse, so long as they don't
say nothing about it? It's the tiresomest thing in the world to be
always talking of them sort of things, and nobody that's ever been
abroad troubles their heads about them."


"Pray then," cried the Captain, "since you know so much of the matter,
be so good as to tell us what they do trouble their heads about?-Hey,
Sir Clement!  han't we a right to know that much?"


"A very comprehensive question," said Sir Clement, "and I expect much
instruction from the lady's answer."


"Come, Madam," continued the Captain, "never flinch; speak at once;
don't stop for thinking."


"I assure you I am not going," answered she; "for as to what they
do do, why they've enough to do, I promise you, what with one thing
or another."


"But what, what do they do, these famous Monseers?" demanded the
Captain; "can't you tell us? do they game?-or drink?-or fiddle?-or are
they jockeys?-or do they spend all their time in flummering old women?"


"As to that, Sir-but indeed I shan't trouble myself to answer such a
parcel of low questions, so don't ask me no more about it." And then,
to my great vexation, turning to Lord Orville, she said, "Pray, Sir,
was you ever in Paris?"


He only bowed.


"And pray, Sir, how did you like it?"


This comprehensive question, as Sir Clement would have called it,
though it made him smile, also made him hesitate; however, his answer
was expressive of his approbation.


"I thought you would like it, Sir, because you look so like a
gentleman. As to the Captain, and as to that other gentleman, why
they may very well not like what they don't know: for I suppose, Sir,
you was never abroad?"


"Only three years, Ma'am," answered Sir Clement, drily.


"Well, that's very surprising! I should never have thought it: however,
I dare say you only kept company with the English."


"Why, pray, who should he keep company with?" cried the Captain:
"what I suppose you'd have him ashamed of his own nation, like some
other people not a thousand miles off, on purpose to make his own
nation ashamed of him?"


"I'm sure it would be a very good thing if you'd go abroad yourself."


"How will you make out that, hey, Madam? come, please to tell me,
where would be the good of that?"


"Where! why a great deal. They'd make quite another person of you."


"What, I suppose you'd have me to learn to cut capers?-and dress like
a monkey?-and palaver in French gibberish?-hey, would you?-And powder,
and daub, and make myself up, like some other folks?"


"I would have you learn to be more politer, Sir, and not to talk to
ladies in such a rude, old-fashion way as this. You, Sir, as have been
in Paris," again addressing herself to Lord Orville, "can tell this
English gentleman how he'd be despised, if he was to talk in such an
ungenteel manner as this before any foreigners. Why, there isn't a
hairdresser, nor a shoemaker, nor nobody, that wouldn't blush to be
in your company."


"Why, look ye, Madam," answered the Captain, "as to your hair-pinchers
and shoe-blacks, you may puff off their manners, and welcome; and I
am heartily glad you like 'em so well: but as to me, since you must
needs make so free of your advice, I must e'en tell you, I never kept
company with any such gentry."


"Come, ladies and gentlemen," said Mrs. Mirvan, "as many of you as have
done tea, I invite to walk with me." Maria and I started up instantly;
Lord Orville followed; and I question whether we were not half round
the room ere the angry disputants knew that we had left the box.


As the husband of Mrs. Mirvan had borne so large a share in
the disagreeable altercation, Lord Orville forbore to make any
comments upon it; so that the subject was immediately dropt, and the
conversation became calmly sociable, and politely cheerful, and, to
every body but me, must have been highly agreeable:-but, as to myself,
I was so eagerly desirous of making some apology to Lord Orville,
for the impertinence of which he must have thought me guilty at the
ridotto, and yet so utterly unable to assume sufficient courage to
speak to him, concerning an affair in which I had so terribly exposed
myself, that I hardly ventured to say a word all the time we were
walking. Besides, the knowledge of his contemptuous opinion haunted and
dispirited me, and made me fear he might possibly misconstrue whatever
I should say. So that, far from enjoying a conversation which might, at
any other time, have delighted me, I continued silent, uncomfortable,
and ashamed. O, Sir, shall I ever again involve myself in so foolish
an embarrassment? I am sure that, if I do, I shall deserve greater
mortification.


We were not joined by the rest of the party till we had taken three
or four turns around the room; and then they were so quarrelsome,
that Mrs. Mirvan complained of being fatigued and proposed going
home. No one dissented. Lord Orville joined another party, having first
made an offer of his services, which the gentlemen declined, and we
proceeded to an outward room, where we waited for the carriages. It
was settled that we should return to town in the same manner we came
to Ranelagh; and, accordingly, Monsieur Du Bois handed Madame Duval
into a hackney coach, and was just preparing to follow her, when she
screamed, and jumped hastily out, declaring she was wet through all
her clothes. Indeed, upon examination the coach was found to be in a
dismal condition; for the weather proved very bad, and the rain had,
though I know not how, made its way into the carriage.


Mrs. and Miss Mirvan, and myself, were already disposed of as before;
but no sooner did the Captain hear this account, than, without any
ceremony, he was so civil as to immediately take possession of the
vacant seat in his own coach, leaving Madame Duval and Monsieur
Du Bois to take care of themselves.  As to Sir Clement Willoughby,
his own chariot was in waiting.


I instantly begged permission to offer Madame Duval my own place, and
made a motion to get out; but Mrs. Mirvan stopped me, saying, that
I should then be obliged to return to town with only the foreigner,
or Sir Clement.


"O never mind the old beldame," cried the Captain, "she's
weather-proof, I'll answer for her; and besides, as we are all, I hope,
English, why she'll meet with no worse than she expects from us."


"I do not mean to defend her," said Mrs. Mirvan; "but indeed, as she
belongs to our party, we cannot, with any decency, leave the place
till she is, by some means, accommodated."


"Lord, my dear," cried the Captain, whom the distress of Madame Duval
had put into very good humour, "why, she'll break her heart if she
meets with any civility from a filthy Englishman."


Mrs. Mirvan, however, prevailed; and we all got out of the coach, to
wait till Madame Duval could meet with some better carriage. We found
her, attended by Monsieur Du Bois, standing amongst the servants, and
very busy in wiping her negligee, and endeavouring to save it from
being stained by the wet, as she said it was a new Lyons silk. Sir
Clement Willoughby offered her the use of his chariot, but she had been
too much piqued by his raillery to accept it.  We waited some time,
but in vain; for no hackney-coach could be procured. The Captain,
at last, was persuaded to accompany Sir Clement himself, and we four
females were handed into Mrs. Mirvan's carriage, though not before
Madame Duval had insisted upon our making room for Monsieur Du Bois,
to which the Captain only consented in preference to being incommoded
by him in Sir Clement's chariot.


Our party drove off first. We were silent and unsociable; for the
difficulties attending this arrangement had made every one languid
and fatigued.  Unsociable, I must own, we continued; but very short
was the duration of our silence, as we had not proceeded thirty yards
before every voice was heard at once-for the coach broke down! I
suppose we concluded, of course, that we were all half killed, by
the violent shrieks that seemed to come from every mouth. The chariot
was stopped, the servants came to our assistance, and we were taken
out of the carriage, without having been at all hurt. The night was
dark and wet; but I had scarce touched the ground when I was lifted
suddenly from it by Sir Clement Willoughby, who begged permission to
assist me, though he did not wait to have it granted, but carried me
in his arms back to Ranelagh.


He enquired very earnestly if I was not hurt by the accident? I assured
him I was perfectly safe, and free from injury; and desired he would
leave me, and return to the rest of the party, for I was very uneasy
to know whether they had been equally fortunate. He told me he was
happy in being honoured with my commands, and would joyfully execute
them; but insisted upon first conducting me to a warm room, as I had
not wholly escaped being wet. He did not regard my objections; but
made me follow him to an apartment, where we found an excellent fire,
and some company waiting for carriages. I readily accepted a seat,
and then begged he would go.


And go, indeed, he did; but he returned in a moment, telling me
that the rain was more violent than ever, and that he had sent his
servants to offer their assistance, and acquaint the Mirvans of my
situation. I was very mad that he would not go himself; but as my
acquaintance with him was so very slight, I did not think proper to
urge him contrary to his inclination.


Well, he drew a chair close to mine; and, after again enquiring how
I did, said, in a low voice, "You will pardon me, Miss Anville, if
the eagerness I feel to vindicate myself, induces me to snatch this
opportunity of making sincere acknowledgments for the impertinence
with which I tormented you at the last ridotto. I can assure you,
Madam, I have been a true and sorrowful penitent ever since; but-shall
I tell you honestly what encouraged me to-"


He stopt, but I said nothing; for I thought instantly of the
conversation Miss Mirvan had overheard, and supposed he was going to
tell me himself what part Lord Orville had borne in it; and really
I did not wish to hear it repeated.  Indeed, the rest of his speech
convinces me that such was his intention; with what view I know not,
except to make a merit of his defending me.


"And yet," he continued, "my excuse may only expose my own credulity,
and want of judgment and penetration. I will, therefore, merely
beseech your pardon, and hope that some future time-"


Just then the door was opened by Sir Clement's servant, and I had the
pleasure of seeing the Captain, Mrs. and Miss Mirvan, enter the room.


"O ho!" cried the former, "you have got a good warm berth here; but
we shall beat up your quarters. Here, Lucy, Moll, come to the fire,
and dry your trumpery. But, hey-day-why, where's old Madame French?"


"Good God," cried I, "is not Madame Duval then with you?"


"With me! No,-thank God."


I was very uneasy to know what might have become of her; and, if they
would have suffered me, I should have gone in search of her myself;
but all the servants were dispatched to find her; and the Captain said,
we might be very sure her French beau would take care of her.


We waited some time without any tidings, and were soon the only party
in the room. My uneasiness increased so much that Sir Clement now
made a voluntary offer of seeking her. However, the same moment that
he opened the door with this design, she presented herself at it,
attended by Monsieur Du Bois.


"I was this instant, Madam," said he, "coming to see for you."


"You are mighty good, truly," cried she, "to come when all the
mischief's over."


She then entered,-in such a condition!-entirely covered with mud,
and in so great a rage, it was with difficulty she could speak. We all
expressed our concern, and offered our assistance-except the Captain,
who no sooner beheld her than he burst out into a loud laugh.


We endeavoured, by our enquiries and condolements, to prevent her
attending to him; and she was for some time so wholly engrossed by her
anger and her distress, that we succeeded without much trouble. We
begged her to inform us how this accident happened. "How!" repeated
she,-"why it was all along of your all going away,-and there poor
Monsieur Du Bois-but it wasn't his fault,-for he's as bad off as me."


All eyes were then turned to Monsieur Du Bois, whose clothes were in
the same miserable plight with those of Madame Duval; and who, wet,
shivering, and disconsolate, had crept to the fire.


The Captain laughed yet more heartily; while Mrs. Mirvan, ashamed of
his rudeness, repeated her inquiries to Madame Duval; who answered,
"Why, as we were a-coming along, all in the rain, Monsieur Du Bois
was so obliging, though I'm sure it was an unlucky obligingness
for me, as to lift me up in his arms to carry me over a place that
was ankle-deep in mud; but instead of my being ever the better for
it, just as we were in the worst part,-I'm sure I wish we had been
fifty miles off,-for somehow or other his foot slipt,-at least, I
suppose so,-though I can't think how it happened, for I'm so such
great weight;-but, however that was, down we both came, together,
all in the mud; and the more we tried to get up, the more deeper we
got covered with the nastiness-and my new Lyons negligee, too, quite
spoilt!-however, it's well we got up at all, for we might have laid
there till now, for aught you all cared; nobody never came near us."


This recital put the Captain into an ecstasy; he went from the lady to
the gentleman, and from the gentleman to the lady, to enjoy alternately
the sight of their distress. He really shouted with pleasure; and,
shaking Monsieur Du Bois strenuously by the hand, wished him joy of
having touched English ground; and then he held a candle to Madame
Duval, that he might have a more complete view of her disaster,
declaring repeatedly, that he had never been better pleased in
his life.


The rage of poor Madame Duval was unspeakable; she dashed the candle
out of his hand, stamping upon the floor, and, at last, spat in
his face.


This action seemed immediately to calm them both, as the joy of the
Captain was converted into resentment, and the wrath of Madame Duval
into fear: for he put his hands upon her shoulders, and gave her
so violent a shake, that she screamed out for help; assuring her,
at the same time, that if she had been one ounce less old, or less
ugly, she should have had it all returned in her own face.


Monsieur Du Bois, who had seated himself very quietly at the fire,
approached them, and expostulated very warmly with the Captain;
but he was neither understood nor regarded; and Madame Duval was not
released till she quite sobbed with passion.


When they were parted, I intreated her to permit the woman who has
charge of the ladies' cloaks to assist in drying her clothes; she
consented, and we did what was possible to save her from catching
cold. We were obliged to wait in this disagreeable situation near an
hour before a hackney-coach could be found; and then we were disposed
in the same manner as before our accident.


I am going this morning to see poor Madame Duval, and to inquire after
her health, which I think must have suffered by her last night's
misfortunes; though, indeed, she seems to be naturally strong and
hearty.


Adieu, my dear Sir, till to-morrow.


LETTER XVII

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Friday Morning, April 15.


SIR CLEMENT WILLOUGHBY called here yesterday at noon, and Captain
Mirvan invited him to dinner. For my part I spent the day in a manner
the most uncomfortable imaginable.


I found Madame Duval at breakfast in bed, though Monsieur Du Bois was
in the chamber; which so much astonished me, that I was, involuntarily,
retiring, without considering how odd an appearance my retreat would
have, when Madame Duval called me back, and laughed very heartily at
my ignorance of foreign customs.


The conversation, however, very soon took a more serious turn; for
she began, with great bitterness, to inveigh against the barbarous
brutality of that fellow the Captain, and the horrible ill-breeding
of the English in general, declaring, she should make her escape
with all expedition from so beastly a nation. But nothing can be more
strangely absurd, than to hear politeness recommended in language so
repugnant to it as that of Madame Duval.


She lamented, very mournfully, the fate of her Lyons silk; and
protested she had rather have parted with all the rest of her wardrobe,
because it was the first gown she had bought to wear upon leaving off
her weeds. She has a very bad cold, and Monsieur Du Bois is so hoarse,
he can hardly speak.


She insisted upon my staying with her all day; as she intended, she
said, to introduce me to some of my own relations. I would very fain
have excused myself, but she did not allow me any choice.


Till the arrival of these relations, one continued series of questions
on her side, and of answers on mine, filled up all the time we
passed together. Her curiosity was insatiable; she inquired into
every action of my life, and every particular that had fallen under
my observation in the lives of all I knew. Again, she was so cruel
as to avow the most inveterate rancour against the sole benefactor
her deserted child and grand-child have met with; and such was the
indignation her ingratitude raised, that I would actually have quitted
her presence and house, had she not, in a manner the most peremptory,
absolutely forbid me. But what, good Heaven! can induce her to such
shocking injustice? O, my friend and father! I have no command of
myself when this subject is started.


She talked very much of taking me to Paris, and said I greatly
wanted the polish of a French education. She lamented that I had
been brought up in the country, which, she observed, had given me
a very bumpkinish air. However, she bid me not despair, for she had
known many girls much worse than me, who had become very fine ladies
after a few years residence abroad; and she particularly instanced
a Miss Polly Moore, daughter of a chandler's-shop woman, who, by an
accident not worth relating, happened to be sent to Paris, where,
from an awkward ill-bred girl, she so much improved, that she has
since been taken for a woman of quality.


The relations to whom she was pleased to introduce me, consisted
of a Mr.  Branghton, who is her nephew, and three of his children,
the eldest of which is a son, and the two younger are daughters.


Mr. Branghton appears about forty years of age. He does not seem
to want a common understanding, though he is very contracted and
prejudiced: he has spent his whole time in the city, and I believe
feels a great contempt for all who reside elsewhere.


His son seems weaker in his understanding, and more gay in his
temper; but his gaiety is that of a foolish, overgrown school-boy,
whose mirth consists in noise and disturbance. He disdains his father
for his close attention to business, and love of money; though he
seems himself to have no talents, spirit, or generosity, to make him
superior to either. His chief delight appears to be tormenting and
ridiculing his sisters; who, in return, most heartily despise him.


Miss Branghton, the eldest daughter, is by no means ugly; but looks
proud, ill-tempered, and conceited. She hates the city, though without
knowing why; for it is easy to discover she has lived no where else.


Miss Polly Branghton is rather pretty, very foolish, very ignorant,
very giddy, and, I believe, very good-natured.


The first half-hour was allotted to making themselves comfortable;
for they complained of having had a very dirty walk, as they came on
foot from Snow Hill, where Mr. Branghton keeps a silversmith's shop;
and the young ladies had not only their coats to brush, and shoes to
dry, but to adjust their head-dress, which their bonnets had totally
discomposed.


The manner in which Madame Duval was pleased to introduce me to this
family extremely shocked me. "Here, my dears," said she, "here's a
relation you little thought of; but you must know, my poor daughter
Caroline had this child after she run away from me,-though I never
knew nothing of it, not I, for a long while after; for they took care
to keep it a secret from me, though the poor child has never a friend
in the world besides."


"Miss seems very tender-hearted, aunt," said Miss Polly; "and to be
sure she's not to blame for her mama's undutifulness, for she couldn't
help it."


"Lord, no," answered she, "and I never took no notice of it to her:
for, indeed, as to that, my own poor daughter wasn't so much to blame
as you may think; for she'd never have gone astray, if it had not
been for that meddling old parson I told you of."


"If aunt pleases," said young Mr. Branghton, "we'll talk o' somewhat
else, for Miss looks very uneasy-like."


The next subject that was chosen was the age of the three young
Branghtons and myself. The son is twenty; the daughters upon hearing
that I was seventeen, said that was just the age of Miss Polly; but
their brother, after a long dispute, proved that she was two years
older, to the great anger of both sisters, who agreed that he was
very ill-natured and spiteful.


When this point was settled, the question was put, Which was
tallest?-We were desired to measure, as the Branghtons were all of
different opinions. None of them, however, disputed my being the
tallest in the company; but, in regard to one another, they were
extremely quarrelsome: the brother insisted upon their measuring fair,
and not with heads and heels; but they would by no means consent to
lose those privileges of our sex; and therefore the young man was cast,
as shortest; though he appealed to all present upon the injustice of
the decree.


This ceremony over, the young ladies begun, very freely, to examine
my dress, and to interrogate me concerning it. "This apron's
your own work, I suppose, Miss? but these sprigs a'n't in fashion
now. Pray, if it is not impertinent, what might you give a yard for
this lutestring?-Do you make your own caps, Miss?" and many other
questions equally interesting and well-bred.


Then they asked me how I liked London? and whether I should not think
the country a very dull place, when I returned thither? "Miss must
try if she can't get a good husband," said Mr. Branghton, "and then
she may stay and live here."


The next topic was public places, or rather the theatres, for they
knew of no other; and the merits and defects of all the actors and
actresses were discussed: the young man here took the lead, and seemed
to be very conversant on the subject. But during this time, what was
my concern, and, suffer me to add, my indignation, when I found, by
some words I occasionally heard, that Madame Duval was entertaining
Mr. Branghton with all the most secret and cruel particulars of my
situation! The eldest daughter was soon drawn to them by the recital;
the youngest and the son still kept their places; intending, I believe,
to divert me, though the conversation was all their own.


In a few minutes, Miss Branghton coming suddenly up to her sister,
exclaimed, "Lord, Polly, only think! Miss never saw her papa!"


"Lord, how odd!" cried the other; "why, then, Miss, I suppose you
wouldn't know him?"


This was quite too much for me; I rose hastily, and ran out of
the room: but I soon regretted I had so little command of myself;
for the two sisters both followed, and insisted upon comforting me,
notwithstanding my earnest intreaties to be left alone.


As soon as I returned to the company, Madame Duval said, "Why, my dear,
what was the matter with you? why did you run away so?"


This question almost made me run again, for I knew not how to
answer it. But, is it not very extraordinary, that she can put me
in situations so shocking, and then wonder to find me sensible of
any concern?


Mr. Branghton junior now inquired of me, whether I had seen the Tower,
or St.  Paul's church? and upon my answering in the negative, they
proposed making a party to shew them to me. Among other questions,
they also asked, if I had ever seen such a thing as an opera?  I told
them I had. "Well," said Mr.  Branghton, "I never saw one in my life,
so long as I've lived in London; and I never desire to see one,
if I live here as much longer."


"Lord, papa," cried Miss Polly, "why not? you might as well for once,
for the curiosity of the thing: besides, Miss Pomfret saw one, and
she says it was very pretty."


"Miss will think us very vulgar," said Miss Branghton, "to live in
London, and never have been to an opera; but it's no fault of mine,
I assure you, Miss, only papa don't like to go."


The result was, that a party was proposed, and agreed to, for some
early opportunity. I did not dare contradict them; but I said
that my time, while I remained in town, was at the disposal of
Mrs. Mirvan. However, I am sure I will not attend them, if I can
possibly avoid doing so.


When we parted, Madame Duval desired to see me the next day; and the
Branghtons told me, that the first time I went towards Snow Hill,
they should be very glad if I would call upon them.


I wish we may not meet again till that time arrives.


I am sure I shall not be very ambitious of being known to any more of
my relations, if they have any resemblance to those whose acquaintance
I have been introduced to already.


LETTER XVIII

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION


I HAD just finished my letter to you this morning, when a violent
rapping at the door made me run down stairs; and who should I see in
the drawing room, but-Lord Orville!


He was quite alone, for the family had not assembled to breakfast. He
inquired first of mine, then of the health of Mrs. and Miss Mirvan,
with a degree of concern that rather surprised me, till he said he had
just been informed of the accident we had met with at Ranelagh. He
expressed his sorrow upon the occasion with utmost politeness, and
lamented that he had not been so fortunate as to hear of it in time to
offer his services. "But I think," he added, "Sir Clement Willoughby
had the honour of assisting you?"


"He was with Captain Mirvan, my Lord."


"I had heard of his being of your party."


I hope that flighty man has not been telling Lord Orville he only
assisted me!  however, he did not pursue the subject: but said, "This
accident though extremely unfortunate, will not, I hope, be the means
of frightening you from gracing Ranelagh with your presence in future?"


"Our time, my Lord, for London, is almost expired already."


"Indeed! do you leave town so very soon?"


"O yes, my Lord, our stay has already exceeded our intentions."


"Are you, then, so particularly partial to the country?"


"We merely came to town, my Lord, to meet Captain Mirvan."


"And does Miss Anville feel no concern at the idea of the many mourners
her absence will occasion?"


"O, my Lord,-I'm sure you don't think-" I stopt there; for, indeed,
I hardly knew what I was going to say. My foolish embarrassment, I
suppose, was the cause of what followed; for he came to me, and took
my hand saying, "I do think, that whoever has once seen Miss Anville,
must receive an impression never to be forgotten."


This compliment,-from Lord Orville,-so surprised me, that I could
not speak; but felt myself change colour, and stood for some moments
silent, and looking down: however, the instant I recollected my
situation, I withdrew my hand, and told him that I would see if
Mrs. Mirvan was not dressed. He did not oppose me-so away I went.


I met them all on the stairs, and returned with them to breakfast.


I have since been extremely angry with myself for neglecting so
excellent an opportunity of apologizing for my behaviour at the
ridotto: but, to own the truth, that affair never once occurred to me
during the short tete-e-tete which we had together. But, if ever
we should happen to be so situated again, I will certainly mention it;
for I am inexpressibly concerned at the thought of his harbouring an
opinion that I am bold or impertinent, and I could almost kill myself
for having given him the shadow of a reason for so shocking an idea.


But was not it very odd that he should make me such a compliment? I
expected it not from him;-but gallantry, I believe, is common to all
men, whatever other qualities they may have in particular.


Our breakfast was the most agreeable meal, if it may be called a meal,
that we have had since we came to town. Indeed, but for Madame Duval,
I should like London extremely.


The conversation of Lord Orville is really delightful. His manners are
so elegant, so gentle, so unassuming, that they at once engage esteem,
and diffuse complacence. Far from being indolently satisfied with his
own accomplishments, as I have already observed many men here are,
though without any pretensions to his merit, he is most assiduously
attentive to please and to serve all who are in his company, and,
though his success is invariable, he never manifests the smallest
degree of consciousness.


I could wish that you, my dearest Sir, knew Lord Orville, because I
am sure you would love him; and I have felt that wish for no other
person I have seen since I came to London. I sometimes imagine, that
when his youth is flown, his vivacity abated, and his life is devoted
to retirement, he will, perhaps, resemble him whom I most love and
honour. His present sweetness, politeness, and diffidence, seem to
promise in future the same benevolence, dignity, and goodness. But
I must not expatiate upon this subject.


When Lord Orville was gone,-and he made but a very short visit,-I
was preparing, most reluctantly, to wait upon Madame Duval; but
Mrs. Mirvan proposed to the Captain, that she should be invited to
dinner in Queen Ann Street; and he readily consented, for he said he
wished to ask after her Lyons negligee.


The invitation is accepted, and we expect her every moment. But to me,
it is very strange, that a woman who is the uncontrolled mistress
of her time, fortune, and actions, should choose to expose herself
voluntarily to the rudeness of a man who is openly determined to
make her his sport. But she has very few acquaintance; and, I fancy,
scarce knows how to employ herself.


How great is my obligation to Mrs. Mirvan, for bestowing her
time in a manner so disagreeable to herself, merely to promote my
happiness! Every dispute in which her undeserving husband engages, is
productive of pain and uneasiness to herself; of this I am so sensible,
that I even besought her not to send to Madame Duval; but she declared
she could not bear to have me pass all my time, while in town, with her
only. Indeed she could not be more kind to me, were she your daughter.


LETTER XIX

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION Saturday Morning, April 16.


MADAM DUVAL was accompanied by Monsieur Du Bois. I am surprised that
she should choose to introduce him where he is so unwelcome: and,
indeed, it is strange that they should be so constantly together,
though I believe I should have taken notice of it, but that Captain
Mirvan is perpetually rallying me upon my grandmama's beau.


They were both received by Mrs. Mirvan with her usual good-breeding;
but the Captain, most provokingly, attacked her immediately, saying,
"Now, Madame, you that have lived abroad, please to tell me this here:
Which did you like best, the warm room at Ranelagh, or the cold bath
you went into afterwards?  though I assure you, you look so well,
that I should advise you to take another dip."


"Ma foi, Sir," cried she, "nobody asked for your advice, so you may
as well keep it to yourself: besides, it's no such great joke to be
splashed, and to catch cold, and spoil all one's things, whatever
you may think of it."


"Splashed, quoth-a!-why I thought you were soused all over.-Come,
come, don't mince the matter, never spoil a good story; you know you
hadn't a dry thread about you-'Fore George, I shall never think on't
without hollooing! such a poor forlorn draggle-tailed-gentlewoman! and
poor Monseer French, here, like a drowned rat, by your side!-"


"Well, the worse pickle we was in, so much the worser in you not to
help us; for you knowed where we were fast enough, because, while I
laid in the mud, I'm pretty sure I heard you snigger: so it's like
enough you jostled us down yourself; for Monsieur Du Bois says, that
he is sure he had a great jolt given him, or he shouldn't have fell."


The Captain laughed so immoderately, that he really gave me also a
suspicion that he was not entirely innocent of the charge: however,
he disclaimed it very peremptorily.


"Why then," continued she, "if you didn't do that, why didn't you
come to help us?"


"Who, I?-what, do you suppose I had forgot I was an Englishman,
a filthy, beastly Englishman?"


"Very well, Sir, very well; but I was a fool to expect any better,
for it's all of a piece with the rest; you know, you wanted to fling
me out of the coach-window, the very first time ever I see you:
but I'll never go to Ranelagh with you no more, that I'm resolved;
for I dare say, if the horses had runn'd over me, as I laid in that
nastiness, you'd never have stirred a step to save me."


"Lord, no, to be sure, Ma'am, not for the world! I know your opinion
of our nation too well, to affront you by supposing a Frenchman would
want my assistance to protect you. Did you think that Monseer here,
and I had changed characters, and that he should pop you into the mud,
and I help you out of it? Ha, ha, ha!"


"O very well, Sir, laugh on, it's like your manners; however, if
poor Monsieur Du Bois hadn't met with that unlucky accident himself
I shouldn't have wanted nobody's help."


"O, I promise you, Madame, you'd never have had mine; I knew my
distance better: and as to your being a little ducked, or so, why,
to be sure, Monseer and you settled that between yourselves; so it
was no business of mine."


"What, then, I suppose you want to make me believe as Monsieur Du
Bois served me that trick o'purpose?"


"O' purpose! ay, certainly; whoever doubted that? Do you think a
Frenchman ever made a blunder? If he had been some clumsy-footed
English fellow, indeed, it might have been accidental: but what
the devil signifies all your hopping and capering with your
dancing-masters, if you can't balance yourselves upright?"


In the midst of this dialogue, Sir Clement Willoughby made his
appearance. He affects to enter the house with the freedom of an old
acquaintance; and this very easiness, which, to me, is astonishing,
is what most particularly recommends him to the Captain. Indeed,
he seems very successfully to study all the humours of that gentleman.


After having heartily welcomed him, "You are just come in time, my
boy," said he, "to settle a little matter of a dispute between this
here gentlewoman and I; do you know she has been trying to persuade
me, that she did not above half like the ducking Monseer gave her
t'other night."


"I should have hoped," said Sir Clement, with the utmost gravity, "that
the friendship subsisting between that lady and gentleman would have
guarded them against any actions professed disagreeable to each other:
but, probably, they might not have discussed the matter previously;
in which case the gentleman, I must own, seems to have been guilty of
inattention, since, in my humble opinion, it was his business first
to have inquired whether the lady preferred soft or hard ground,
before he dropt her."


"O very fine, gentlemen, very fine," cried Madame Duval, "you may try
to set us together by the ears as much as you will; but I'm not such
an ignorant person as to be made a fool of so easily; so you needn't
talk no more about it, for I sees into your designs."


Monsieur Du Bois, who was just able to discover the subject upon
which the conversation turned, made his defence, in French, with
great solemnity: he hoped, he said, that the company would at least
acknowledge he did not come from a nation of brutes; and consequently,
that to wilfully offend any lady, was, to him, utterly impossible;
but that, on the contrary, in endeavouring, as was his duty, to save
and guard her, he had himself suffered, in a manner which he would
forbear to relate, but which, he greatly apprehended, he should feel
the ill effects of for many months: and then, with a countenance
exceedingly lengthened, he added, that he hoped it would not be
attributed to him as national prejudice, when he owned that he must,
to the best of his memory, aver, that his unfortunate fall was owing
to a sudden but violent push, which, he was shocked to say, some
malevolent person, with a design to his injury, must certainly have
given him; but whether with a view to mortify him, by making him let
the lady fall, or whether merely to spoil his clothes, he could not
pretend to determine.


This disputation was, at last, concluded by Mrs. Mirvan's proposing
that we should all go to Cox's Museum. Nobody objected, and carriages
were immediately ordered.


In our way down stairs, Madame Duval, in a very passionate manner,
said, "Ma foi, if I wouldn't give fifty guineas only to know who gave
us that shove!"


This Museum is very astonishing, and very superb; yet if afforded me
but little pleasure, for it is a mere show, though a wonderful one.

Sir Clement Willoughby, in our walk round the room, asked me what my
opinion was of this brilliant spectacle!

"It is a very fine, and very ingenious," answered I; "and yet-I don't
know how it is-but I seem to miss something."

"Excellently answered!" cried he; "you have exactly defined my own
feelings, though in a manner I should never have arrived at. But
I was certain your taste was too well formed, to be pleased at the
expense of your understanding."

"Pardi," cried Madame Duval, "I hope you two is difficult enough! I'm
sure if you don't like this you like nothing; for it's the grandest,
prettiest, finest sight that ever I see in England."

"What," cried the Captain with a sneer, "I suppose this may be in
your French taste? it's like enough, for it's all kickshaw work. But
pr'ythee, friend," turning to the person who explained the devices,
"will you tell me the use of all this? for I'm not enough of a conjuror
to find it out."

"Use, indeed!" repeated Madame Duval, disdainfully; "Lord if every
thing's to be useful!-"

"Why, Sir, as to that, Sir," said our conductor, "the ingenuity of
the mechanism-the beauty of the workmanship-the-undoubtedly, Sir, any
person of taste may easily discern the utility of such extraordinary
performances."

"Why then, Sir," answered the Captain, "your person of taste must
be either a coxcomb, or a Frenchman; though, for the matter of that,
'tis the same thing."

Just then our attention was attracted by a pine-apple; which, suddenly
opening, discovered a nest of birds, which immediately began to
sing. "Well," cried Madame Duval, "this is prettier than all the rest!
I declare, in all my travels, I never see nothing eleganter."

"Hark ye, friend," said the Captain, "hast never another pine-apple?"

"Sir?-"

"Because, if thou hast, pr'ythee give it us without the birds;
for, d'ye see, I'm no Frenchman, and should relish something more
substantial."

This entertainment concluded with a concert of mechanical music: I
cannot explain how it was produced, but the effect was pleasing. Madame
Duval was in ecstasies; and the Captain flung himself into so many
ridiculous distortions, by way of mimicking her, that he engaged the
attention of all the company; and, in the midst of the performance of
the Coronation Anthem, while Madame Duval was affecting to beat time,
and uttering many expressions of delight, he called suddenly for salts,
which a lady, apprehending some distress, politely handed to him,
and which, instantly applying to the nostrils of poor Madame Duval,
she involuntarily snuffed up such a quantity, that the pain and
surprise made her scream aloud. When she recovered, she reproached
him with her usual vehemence; but he protested he had taken that
measure out of pure friendship, as he concluded, from her raptures,
that she was going into hysterics. This excuse by no means appeased
her, and they had a violent quarrel; but the only effect her anger
had on the Captain, was to increase his diversion. Indeed, he laughs
and talks so terribly loud in public, that he frequently makes us
ashamed of belonging to him.

Madame Duval, notwithstanding her wrath, made no scruple of returning
to dine in Queen Ann Street. Mrs. Mirvan had secured places for the
play at Drury-Lane Theatre, and, though ever uneasy in her company, she
very politely invited Madame Duval to be of our party; however, she had
a bad cold and chose to nurse it. I was sorry for her indisposition;
but I knew not how to be sorry she did not accompany us, for she is-I
must not say what, but very unlike other people.


LETTER XX

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION


OUR places were in the front row of a side-box. Sir Clement Willoughby,
who knew our intention, was at the door of the theatre, and handed
us from the carriage.

We had not been seated five minutes before Lord Orville, whom we saw in
the stage-box, came to us; and he honoured us with his company all the
evening; Miss Mirvan and I both rejoiced that Madam Duval was absent,
as we hoped for the enjoyment of some conversation, uninterrupted
by her quarrels with the Captain: but I soon found that her presence
would have made very little alteration; for as far was I from daring
to speak, that I knew not where even to look.

The play was Love for Love; and though it is fraught with wit and
entertainment I hope I shall never see it represented again; for it
is so extremely indelicate-to use the softest word I can-that Miss
Mirvan and I were perpetually out of countenance, and could neither
make any observations ourselves, nor venture to listen to those of
others. This was the most provoking, as Lord Orville was in excellent
spirits, and exceedingly entertaining.

When the play was over, I flattered myself I should be able to look
about me with less restraint, as we intended to stay the farce; but
the curtain had hardly dropped, when the box-door opened, and in came
Mr. Lovel, the man by whose foppery and impertinence I was so much
teased at the ball where I first saw Lord Orville.

I turned away my head, and began talking to Miss Mirvan; for I was
desirous to avoid speaking to him-but in vain; for, as soon as he had
made his compliments to Lord Orville and Sir Clement Willoughby, who
returned them very coldly, he bent his head forward and said to me,
"I hope, Ma'am, you have enjoyed your health since I had the honour-I
beg ten thousand pardons, but, I protest I was going to say the honour
of dancing with you-however, I mean the honour of seeing you dance?"

He spoke with a self-complacency that convinced me that he had studied
this address, by way of making reprisals for my conduct at the ball;
I therefore bowed slightly, but made no answer.

After a short silence he again called my attention, by saying, in an
easy, negligent way, "I think, Ma'am, you was never in town before?"

"No, Sir."

"So I did presume. Doubtless, Ma'am, every thing must be infinitely
novel to you. Our customs, our manners, and les etiquettes de nous
autres, can have little very resemblance to those you have been used
to. I imagine, Ma'am, your retirement is at no very small distance
from the capital?"

I was so much disconcerted at this sneering speech, that I said not
a word; though I have since thought my vexation both stimulated and
delighted him.

"The air we breathe here, however, Ma'am," continued he, very
conceitedly, "though foreign to that you have been accustomed to,
has not I hope been at variance with your health?"

"Mr. Lovel," said Lord Orville, "could not your eye have spared
that question?"

"O, my Lord," answered he, "if health were the only cause of a lady's
bloom, my eye, I grant, had been infallible from the first glance;
but-"

"Come, come," cried Mrs. Mirvan, "I must beg no insinuations of that
sort: Miss Anville's colour, as you have successfully tried, may,
you see, be heightened; but, I assure you, it would be past your
skill to lessen it."

"'Pon honour, Madam," returned he, "you wrong me; I presumed not to
infer that rouge was the only succedaneum for health; but, really,
I have known so many different causes for a lady's colour, such as
flushing-anger-mauvaise honte-and so forth, that I never dare decide
to which it may be owing."

"As to such causes as them there," cried the Captain, "they must
belong to those that they keep company with."

"Very true, Captain," said Sir Clement; "the natural complexion has
nothing to do with the occasional sallies of the passions, or any
accidental causes."

"No, truly," returned the Captain: "for now here's me, why I look like
any other man; just now; and yet, if you were to put me in a passion,
'fore George, you'd soon see me have as fine a high colour as any
painted Jezebel in all this place, be she never so bedaubed."

"But," said Lord Orville, "the difference of natural and of artificial
colour seems to me very easily discerned; that of nature is mottled
and varying; that of art set, and too smooth; it wants that animation,
that glow, that indescribable something, which, even now that I see
it, wholly surpasses all my powers of expression."

"Your Lordship," said Sir Clement, "is universally acknowledged to
be a connoisseur in beauty."

"And you, Sir Clement," returned he, "an enthusiast."

"I am proud to own it," cried Sir Clement; "in such a cause, and before
such objects, enthusiasm is simply the consequence of not being blind."

"Pr'ythee, a truce with all this palavering," cried the Captain:
"the women are vain enough already; no need for to puff 'em up more."

"We must all submit to the commanding officer," said Sir Clement:
"therefore, let us call another subject. Pray, ladies, how have you
been entertained with the play?"

"Want of entertainment," said Mrs. Mirvan, "is its least fault; but I
own there are objections to it, which I should be glad to see removed."

"I could have ventured to answer for the ladies," said Lord Orville,
"since I am sure this is not a play that can be honoured with their
approbation."

"What, I suppose it is not sentimental enough!" cried the Captain,
"or else it is too good for them; for I'll maintain it's one of the
best comedies in our language, and has more wit in one scene than
there is in all the new plays put together."

"For my part," said Mr. Lovel, "I confess I seldom listen to the
players: one has so much to do, in looking about and finding out one's
acquaintance, that, really, one has no time to mind the stage. Pray,"
most affectedly fixing his eyes upon a diamond ring on his little
finger, "pray-what was the play to-night?"

"Why, what the D-l," cried the Captain, "do you come to the play
without knowing what it is?"

"O yes, Sir, yes, very frequently: I have no time to read play-bills;
one merely comes to meet one's friends, and shew that one's alive."

"Ha, ha, ha!-and so," cried the Captain, "it costs you five shillings
a-night just to shew you're alive! Well, faith, my friends should
all think me dead and underground before I'd be at that expense for
'em. Howsomever-this here you may take from me-they'll find you out
fast enough if you have anything to give 'em.-And so you've been here
all this time, and don't know what the play was?"

"Why, really Sir, a play requires so much attention,-it is scarce
possible to keep awake if one listens;-for, indeed, by the time it
is evening, one has been so fatigued with dining,-or wine,-or the
house,-or studying,-that it is-it is perfectly an impossibility. But,
now I think of it, I believe I have a bill in my pocket; O, ay,
here it is-Love for Love, ay,-true, ha, ha!-how could I be so stupid!"

"O, easily enough, as to that, I warrant you," said the Captain;
"but, by my soul, this is one of the best jokes I ever heard!-Come
to a play, and not know what it is!-Why, I suppose you wouldn't have
found it out, if they had fob'd you off with a scraping of fiddlers,
or an opera?-Ha, ha, ha!-Why, now, I should have thought you might
have taken some notice of one Mr. Tattle, that is in this play!"

This sarcasm, which caused a general smile, made him colour: but,
turning to the Captain with a look of conceit, which implied that he
had a retort ready, he said, "Pray, Sir, give me leave to ask-What
do you think of one Mr. Ben, who is also in this play?"

The Captain, regarding him with the utmost contempt, answered in a loud
voice, "Think of him!-why, I think he is a man!" And then, staring
full in his face, he struck his cane on the ground with a violence
that made him start.  He did not however, choose to take any notice
of this: but, having bit his nails some time in manifest confusion,
he turned very quick to me, and in a sneering tone of voice, said,
"For my part, I was most struck with the country young lady, Miss Prue;
pray what do you think of her, Ma'am?"

"Indeed, Sir," cried I, very much provoked, "I think-that is, I do
not think any thing about her."

"Well, really, Ma'am, you prodigiously surprise me!-mais, apparemment
ce n'est qu'une facon de parler? -though I should beg your pardon,
for probably you do not understand French?"

I made no answer, for I thought his rudeness intolerable; but Sir
Clement, with great warmth, said, "I am surprised that you can suppose
such an object as Miss Prue would engage the attention of Miss Anville
even for a moment."

"O, Sir," returned this fop, "'tis the first character in the piece!-so
well drawn!-so much the thing!-such true country breeding-such rural
ignorance!  ha, ha, ha!-'tis most admirably hit off, 'pon honour!"

I could almost have cried, that such impertinence should be leveled
at me; and yet, chagrined as I was, I could never behold Lord Orville
and this man at the same time, and feel any regret for the cause I
had given of displeasure.

"The only female in the play," said Lord Orville, "worthy of being
mentioned to these ladies is Angelica."

"Angelica," cried Sir Clement, "is a noble girl; she tries her lover
severely, but she rewards him generously."

"Yet, in a trial so long," said Mrs. Mirvan, "there seems rather too
much consciousness of her power."

"Since my opinion has the sanction of Mrs. Mirvan," added Lord
Orville, "I will venture to say, that Angelica bestows her hand
rather with the air of a benefactress, than with the tenderness of
a mistress. Generosity without delicacy, like wit without judgment,
generally gives as much pain as pleasure. The uncertainty in which
she keeps Valentine, and her manner of trifling with his temper,
give no very favourable idea of her own."

"Well, my Lord," said Mr. Lovel, "it must, however, be owned, that
uncertainty is not the ton among our ladies at present; nay, indeed,
I think they say,-though faith," taking a pinch of snuff, "I hope it
is not true-but they say, that we now are most shy and backward."

The curtain then drew up, and our conversation ceased. Mr. Lovel,
finding we chose to attend to the players, left the box. How strange
it is, Sir, that this man, not contented with the large share of
foppery and nonsense which he has from nature, should think proper
to affect yet more! for what he said of Tattle and of Miss Prue,
convinced me that he really had listened to the play, though he was
so ridiculous and foolish as to pretend ignorance.

But how malicious and impertinent is this creature to talk to me in
such a manner! I am sure I hope I shall never see him again. I should
have despised him heartily as a fop, had he never spoken to me at
all; but now, that he thinks proper to resent his supposed ill-usage,
I am really quite afraid of him.

The entertainment was, The Duece is in Him; which Lord Orville observed
to be the most finished and elegant petit piece that was ever written
in English.

In our way home, Mrs. Mirvan put me into some consternation by saying,
it was evident, from the resentment which this Mr. Lovel harbours
of my conduct, that he would think it a provocation sufficiently
important for a duel, if his courage equaled his wrath.

I am terrified at the very idea. Good Heaven! that a man so weak
and frivolous should be so revengeful! However, if bravery would
have excited him to affront Lord Orville, how much reason have I to
rejoice that cowardice makes him contended with venting his spleen
upon me! But we shall leave town soon, and, I hope, see him no more.

It was some consolation to me to hear from Miss Mirvan, that, while
he was speaking to me so cavalierly, Lord Orville regarded him with
great indignation.

But, really, I think there ought to be a book of the laws and
customs -e;-la-mode, presented to all young people upon their first
introduction into public company.

To-night we go to the opera, where I expect very great pleasure. We
shall have the same party as at the play, for Lord Orville said he
should be there, and would look for us.


LETTER XXI

EVELINA IN CONTINUATION I HAVE a volume to write of the adventures
of yesterday. In the afternoon,-at Berry Hill I should have said the
evening, for it was almost six o'clock,-while Miss Mirvan and I were
dressing for the opera, and in high spirits from the expectation of
great entertainment and pleasure, we heard a carriage stop at the door,
and concluded that Sir Clement Willoughby, with his usual assiduity,
was come to attend us to the Haymarket; but, in a few moments, what
was our surprise to see our chamber door flung open, and the two Miss
Branghtons enter the room! They advanced to me with great familiarity,
saying, "How do you do, Cousin?-so we've caught you at the glass!-well,
I'm determined I'll tell my brother of that!"

Miss Mirvan, who had never before seen them, and could not at first
imagine who they were, looked so much astonished, that I was ready
to laugh myself, till the eldest said, "We're come to take you to
the opera, Miss; papa and my brother are below, and we are to call
for your grand-mama as we go along."

"I am very sorry," answered I, "that you should have taken so much
trouble, as I am engaged already."

"Engaged! Lord, Miss, never mind that," cried the youngest; "this
young lady will make your excuses I dare say; it's only doing as one
would be done by, you know."

"Indeed Ma'am," said Miss Mirvan, "I shall myself be very sorry to
be deprived of Miss Anville's company this evening."

"Well, Miss, that is not so very good-natured in you," said Miss
Branghton, "considering we only come to give our cousin pleasure;
it's no good to us; it's all upon her account; for we came, I don't
know how much round about to take her up."

"I am extremely obliged to you," said I, "and very sorry you have
lost so much time; but I cannot possibly help it, for I engaged myself
without knowing you would call."

"Lord, what signifies that?" said Miss Polly, "you're no old maid,
and so you needn't be so very formal: besides I dare say those you
are engaged to a'n't half so near related to you as we are."

"I must beg you not to press me any further, for I assure you it is
not in my power to attend you."

"Why, we came all out of the city on purpose: besides, your grand-mama
expects you;-and, pray, what are we to say to her?"

"Tell her, if you please, that I am much concerned,-but that I am
pre-engaged."

"And who to?" demanded the abrupt Miss Branghton.

"To Mrs. Mirvan,-and a large party."

"And, pray, what are you all going to do, that it would be such a
mighty matter for you to come along with us?"

"We are all going to-to the opera."

"O dear, if that be all, why can't we go altogether?"

I was extremely disconcerted at this forward and ignorant behaviour,
and yet their rudeness very much lessened my concern at refusing
them. Indeed, their dress was such as would have rendered their scheme
of accompanying our party impracticable, even if I had desired it;
and this, as they did not themselves find it out, I was obliged,
in terms the least mortifying I could think of, to tell them.

They were very much chagrined, and asked where I should sit.

"In the pit," answered I.

"In the pit," repeated Miss Branghton; "well, really, I must own,
I should never have supposed that my gown was not good enough for
the pit: but come, Polly, let's go; if Miss does not think us fine
enough for her, why to be sure she may choose."

Surprised at this ignorance, I would have explained to them, that the
pit at the opera required the same dress as the boxes; but they were
so much affronted they would not hear me; and, in great displeasure,
left the room, saying, they would not have troubled me, only they
thought I should not be proud with my own relations, and that they
had at least as good a right to my company as strangers.

I endeavoured to apologize, and would have sent a long message to
Madame Duval: but they hastened away without listening to me; and
I could not follow them down stairs, because I was not dressed. The
last words I heard them say were, "Well, her grandmama will be in a
fine passion, that's one good thing."

Though I was extremely mad at this visit, yet I so heartily rejoiced at
their going, that I would not suffer myself to think gravely about it.

Soon after, Sir Clement actually came, and we all went down
stairs. Mrs.  Mirvan ordered tea; and we were engaged in a very lively
conversation, when the servant announced Madame Duval, who instantly
followed him into the room.

Her face was the colour of scarlet, and her eyes sparkled with
fury. She came up to me with a hasty step, saying, "So, Miss, you
refuses to come to me, do you? And pray who are you, to dare to
disobey me?"

I was quite frightened;-I made no answer;-I even attempted to rise,
and could not, but sat still, mute and motionless.

Everybody but Miss Mirvan seemed in the utmost astonishment; and
the Captain rising and approaching Madame Duval, with a voice of
authority, said, "Why, how now, Mrs. Turkey-cock, what's put you into
this here fluster?"

"It's nothing to you," answered she, "so you may as well hold your
tongue; for I shan't be called to no account by you, I assure you."

"There you're out, Madame Fury," returned he; "for you must know,
I never suffer anybody to be in a passion in my house, but myself."

"But you shall," cried she, in a great rage; "for I'll be in as great
a passion as ever I please, without asking your leave: so don't give
yourself no more airs about it. And as for you Miss," again advancing
to me, "I order you to follow me this moment, or else I'll make you
repent it all your life."  And, with these words, she flung out of
the room.

I was in such extreme terror, at being addressed and threatened in a
manner to which I am so wholly unused, that I almost thought I should
have fainted.

"Don't be alarmed, my love," cried Mrs. Mirvan, "but stay where you
are, and I will follow Madame Duval, and try to bring her to reason."

Miss Mirvan took my hand, and most kindly endeavoured to raise my
spirits. Sir Clement, too, approached me, with an air so interested
in my distress, that I could not but feel myself obliged to him; and,
taking my other hand, said, "For Heaven's sake, my dear Madam, compose
yourself: surely the violence of such a wretch ought merely to move
your contempt; she can have no right, I imagine, to lay her commands
upon you, and I only wish that you would allow me to speak to her."

"O no! not for the world!-indeed, I believe,-I am afraid-I had better
follow her."

"Follow her! Good God, my dear Miss Anville, would you trust yourself
with a mad woman? for what else can you call a creature whose passions
are so insolent? No, no; send her word at once to leave the house,
and tell her you desire that she will never see you again."

"O, Sir! you don't know who you talk of!-it would ill become me to
send Madame Duval such a message."

"But why," cried he, (looking very inquisitive,) "why should you
scruple to treat her as she deserves?"

I then found that his aim was to discover the nature of her connection
with me; but I felt so much ashamed of my near relationship to her,
that I could not persuade myself to answer him, and only intreated
that he would leave her to Mrs. Mirvan, who just then entered the room.

Before she could speak to me, the Captain, called out, "Well, Goody,
what have you done with Madame French? is she cooled a little? cause
if she ben't, I've just thought of a most excellent device to bring
her to."

"My dear Evelina," said Mrs. Mirvan, "I have been vainly endeavouring
to appease her; I pleaded your engagement, and promised your future
attendance: but I am sorry to say, my love, that I fear her rage will
end in a total breach (which I think you had better avoid) if she is
any further opposed."

"Then I will go to her, Madam," cried I; "and, indeed, it is now no
matter, for I should not be able to recover my spirits sufficiently
to enjoy much pleasure any where this evening."

Sir Clement began a very warm expostulation and intreaty, that I would
not go; but I begged him to desist, and told him, very honestly, that,
if my compliance were not indispensably necessary I should require
no persuasion to stay. He then took my hand, to lead me down stairs;
but the Captain desired him to be quiet, saying he would 'squire me
himself, "because" he added, (exultingly rubbing his hands) "I have
a wipe ready for the old lady, which may serve her to chew as she
goes along."

We found her in the parlour, "O you're come at last, Miss, are
you?-fine airs you give yourself, indeed!-ma foi, if you hadn't
come, you might have staid, I assure you, and have been a beggar,
for your pains."

"Heyday, Madam," cried the Captain, (prancing forward, with a look of
great glee) "what, a'n't you got out of that there passion yet? why
then, I'll tell you what to do to cool yourself; call upon your old
friend, Monseer Slippery, who was with you at Ranelagh, and give my
service to him, and tell him, if he sets any store by your health,
that I desire he'll give you such another souse as he did before:
he'll know what I mean, and I'll warrant you he'll do't for my sake."

"Let him, if he dares!" cried Madame Duval; "but I shan't stay to
answer you no more; you are a vulgar fellow;-and so, child, let us
leave him to himself."

"Hark ye, Madam," cried the Captain, "you'd best not call names;
because, d'ye see, if you do, I shall make bold to shew you the door."

She changed colour, and saying, "Pardi, I can shew it myself," hurried
out of the room, and I followed her into a hackney-coach. But, before
we drove off, the Captain, looking out of the parlour window, called
out "D'ye hear, Madam, don't forget my message to Monseer."

You will believe our ride was not the most agreeable in the world;
indeed, it would be difficult to say which was least pleased, Madame
Duval or me, though the reasons of our discontent were so different:
however, Madame Duval soon got the start of me; for we had hardly
turned out of Queen Ann Street, when a man, running full speed,
stopt the coach. He came up to the window, and I saw he was the
Captain's servant. He had a broad grin on his face, and panted for
breath. Madame Duval demanded his business: "Madam," answered he,
"my master desires his compliments to you, and-and-and he says he
wishes it well over with you. He! he! he!-"

Madame Duval instantly darted forward, and gave him a violent blow on
the face; "Take that back for your answer, sirrah," cried she, "and
learn not to grin at your betters another time. Coachman, drive on!"

The servant was in a violent passion, and swore terribly; but we were
soon out of hearing.

The rage of Madame Duval was greater than ever; and she inveighed
against the Captain with such fury, that I was even apprehensive
she would have returned to his house, purposely to reproach him,
which she repeatedly threatened to do; nor would she, I believe,
have hesitated a moment, but that, notwithstanding her violence,
he has really made her afraid of him.

When we came to her lodgings we found all the Branghtons in the
passage, impatiently waiting for us with the door open.

"Only see, here's Miss!" cried the brother.

"Well, I declare I thought as much!" said the younger sister.

"Why, Miss," said Mr. Branghton, "I think you might as well have
come with your cousins at once; it's throwing money in the dirt,
to pay two coaches for one fare."

"Lord, father," cried the son, "make no words about that; for I'll
pay for the coach that Miss had."

"O, I know very well," answered Mr. Branghton, "that you're always
more ready to spend than to earn."

I then interfered, and begged that I might myself be allowed to pay
the fare, as the expense was incurred upon my account; they all said
no, and proposed that the same coach should carry us to the opera.

While this passed the Miss Branghtons were examining my dress, which,
indeed, was very improper for my company; and, as I was extremely
unwilling to be so conspicuous amongst them, I requested Madame Duval
to borrow a hat or bonnet for me of the people of the house. But
she never wears either herself, and thinks them very English and
barbarous; therefore she insisted that I should go full dressed,
as I had prepared myself for the pit, though I made many objections.

We were then all crowded into the same carriage; but when we arrived
at the opera-house, I contrived to pay the coachman. They made a
great many speeches; but Mr. Branghton's reflection had determined
me not to be indebted to him.

If I had not been too much chagrined to laugh, I should have been
extremely diverted at their ignorance of whatever belongs to an
opera. In the first place they could not tell at what door we ought
to enter, and we wandered about for some time, without knowing
which way to turn: they did not choose to apply to me, though I was
the only person of the party who had ever before been at an opera;
because they were unwilling to suppose that their country counsin,
as they were pleased to call me, should be better acquainted with
any London public place than themselves. I was very indifferent and
careless upon this subject; but not a little uneasy at finding that
my dress, so different from that of the company to which I belonged,
attracted general notice and observation.

In a short time, however, we arrived at one of the door-keeper's
bars. Mr.  Branghton demanded for what part of the house they
took money? They answered, the pit; and regarded us all with great
earnestness. The son then advancing, said "Sir, if you please, I beg
that I may treat Miss."

"We'll settle that another time," answered Mr. Branghton, and put
down a guinea.

Two tickets of admission were given to him.

Mr. Branghton, in his turn, now stared at the door-keeper, and demanded
what he meant by giving him only two tickets for a guinea.

"Only two, Sir!" said the man; "why, don't you know that the tickets
are half-a guinea each?"

"Half-a-guinea each!" repeated Mr. Branghton, "why, I never heard of
such a thing in my life! And pray, Sir, how many will they admit?"

"Just as usual, Sir, one person each."

"But one person for half-a-guinea!-why, I only want to sit in the
pit, friend."

"Had not the ladies better sit in the gallery, Sir; for they'll hardly
choose to go into the pit with their hats on?"

"O, as to that," cried Miss Branghton, "if our hats are too high we'll
take them off when we get in. I sha'n't mind, it, for I did my hair
on purpose."

Another party then approaching, the door-keeper could no longer attend
to Mr.  Branghton; who, taking up the guinea, told him it should be
long enough before he'd see it again, and walked away.

The young ladies, in some confusion, expressed their surprise that
their papa should not know the opera prices, which, for their parts,
they had read in the papers a thousand times.

"The price of stocks," said he, "is enough for me to see after; and
I took it for granted it was the same thing here as at the playhouse."

"I knew well enough what the price was," said the son; "but I would
not speak, because I thought perhaps they'd take less, as we're such
a large party."

The sisters both laughed very contemptuously at this idea, and
asked him if he ever heard of people's abating any thing at a public
place? I don't know whether I have or not," answered he; "but I am
sure if they would, you'd like it so much the worse."

"Very true, Tom," cried Mr. Branghton; "tell a woman that any thing
is reasonable, and she'll be sure to hate it."

"Well," said Miss Polly, "I hope that aunt and Miss will be of our
side, for papa always takes part with Tom."

"Come, come," cried Madame Duval, "if you stand talking here, we
shan't get no place at all."

Mr. Branghton then enquired the way to the gallery; and, when we came
to the door-keeper, demanded what was to pay.

"The usual price, Sir," said the man.

"Then give me change," cried Mr. Branghton, again putting down
his guinea.

"For how many, Sir?"

"Why-let's see,-for six."

"For six, Sir? why, you're given me but a guinea."

"But a guinea! why, how much would you have? I suppose it is'n't
half-a-guinea a piece here too?"

"No, Sir, only five shillings."

Mr. Branghton again took up his unfortunate guinea, and protested he
would not submit to no such imposition. I then proposed that we should
return home, but Madame Duval would not consent; and we were conducted,
by a woman who sells books of the opera, to another gallery-door,
where, after some disputing, Mr.  Branghton at last paid, and we all
went up stairs.

Madame Duval complained very much of the trouble of going so high:
but Mr.  Branghton desired her not to hold the place too cheap;
"for, whatever you think," cried he, "I assure you I paid pit price;
so don't suppose I come here to save my money."

"Well, to be sure," said Miss Branghton, "there's no judging of a
place by the outside, else, I must needs say, there's nothing very
extraordinary in the stair-case."

But, when we entered the gallery their amazement and disappointment
became general. For a few instants, they looked at one another without
speaking, and then they all broke silence at once.

"Lord, papa," exclaimed Miss Polly, "why, you have brought us to the
one-shilling gallery!"

"I'll be glad to give you two shillings, though," answered he,
"to pay. I was never so fooled out of my money before, since the
house of my birth. Either the door-keeper's a knave, or this is the
greatest imposition that ever was put upon the public."

"Ma foi," cried Madame Duval, "I never sat in such a mean place in
all my life;-why, it's as high-we shan't see nothing."

"I thought at the time," said Mr. Branghton, "that three shillings was
an exorbitant price for a place in the gallery: but as we'd been asked
so much at the other doors, why I paid it without many words; but,
then, to be sure, thinks I, it can never be like any other gallery,
we shall see some crinkum-crankum or other for our money; but I find
it's as arrant a take-in as ever I met with."

"Why, it's as like the twelve-penny gallery at Drury Lane," cried
the son, "as two peas are to one another. I never knew father so
bit before."

"Lord," said Miss Branghton, "I thought it would have been quite a
fine place,-all over, I don't know what,-and done quite in taste."

In this manner they continued to express their dissatisfaction till
the curtain drew up; after which their observations were very curious.

They made no allowance for the customs, or even for the language,
of another country; but formed all their remarks upon comparisons
with the English theatre.

Notwithstanding my vexation at having been forced into a party so
very disagreeable, and that, too, from one so much-so very much the
contrary-yet, would they have suffered me to listen, I should have
forgotten every thing unpleasant, and felt nothing but delight in
hearing the sweet voice of Signor Millico, the first singer; but they
tormented me with continual talking.

"What a jabbering they make!" cried Mr. Branghton, "there's no
knowing a word they say. Pray, what's the reason they can't as well
sing in English?-but I suppose the fine folks would not like it,
if they could understand it."

"How unnatural their action is!" said the son: "why, now, who ever
saw an Englishman put himself in such out-of-the-way postures?"

"For my part," said Miss Polly, "I think it's very pretty, only I
don't know what it means."

"Lord, what does that signify," cried her sister; "mayn't one like a
thing without being so very particular?-You may see that Miss likes
it, and I don't suppose she knows more of the matter than we do."

A gentleman, soon after, was so obliging as to make room in the front
row for Miss Branghton and me. We had no sooner seated ourselves,
than Miss Branghton exclaimed, "Good gracious! only see!-why, Polly,
all the people in the pit are without hats, dressed like anything!"

"Lord, so they are," cried Miss Polly; "well, I never saw the
like!-it's worth coming to the opera, if one saw nothing else."

I was then able to distinguish the happy party I had left; and I saw
that Lord Orville had seated himself next to Mrs. Mirvan. Sir Clement
had his eyes perpetually cast towards the five-shilling gallery,
where I suppose he concluded that we were seated; however, before the
opera was over, I have reason to believe that he had discovered me,
high and distant as I was from him. Probably he distinguished me by
my head-dress.

At the end of the first act, as the green curtain dropped to prepare
for the dance, they imagined that the opera was done; and Mr. Branghton
expressed great indignation that he had been tricked out of his money
with so little trouble. "Now, if any Englishman was to do such an
impudent thing as this," said he, "why, he'd be pelted;-but here,
one of these outlandish gentry may do just what he pleases, and come
on, and squeak out a song or two, and then pocket your money without
further ceremony."

However, so determined he was to be dissatisfied, that, before the
conclusion of the third act, he found still more fault with the opera
for being too long; and wondered whether they thought their singing
good enough to serve us for supper.

During the symphony of a song of Signor Millico's, in the second act,
young Mr. Branghton said, "It's my belief that that fellow's going
to sing another song!-why, there's nothing but singing!-I wonder when
they'll speak."

This song, which was slow and pathetic, caught all my attention,
and I leaned my head forward to avoid hearing their observations,
that I might listen without interruption: but, upon turning round,
when the song was over, I found that I was the object of general
diversion to the whole party; for the Miss Branghtons were tittering,
and the two gentlemen making signs and faces at me, implying their
contempt of my affectation.

This discovery determined me to appear as inattentive as themselves;
but I was very much provoked at being thus prevented enjoying the
only pleasure, which, in such a party, was within my power.

"So Miss," said Mr. Branghton, "you're quite in the fashion, I see-so
you like operas? Well, I'm not so polite; I can't like nonsense,
let it be never so much the taste."

"But pray, Miss," said the son, "what makes that fellow look so
doleful while he is singing?"

"Probably because the character he performs is in distress."

"Why, then, I think he might as well let alone singing till he's in
better cue: it's out of all nature for a man to be piping when he's
in distress. For my part, I never sing but when I'm merry; yet I love
a song as well as most people."

When the curtain dropt they all rejoiced.

"How do you like it?"-and "How do you like it?" passed from one
to another with looks of the utmost contempt. "As for me," said
Mr. Branghton, "they've caught me once; but if ever they do again,
I'll give 'em leave to sing me to Bedlam for my pains: for such a
heap of stuff never did I hear: there isn't one ounce of sense in
the whole opera, nothing but one continued squeaking and squalling
from beginning to end."

"If I had been in the pit," said Madame Duval, "I should have liked it
vastly, for music is my passion; but sitting in such a place as this,
is quite unbearable."

Miss Branghton, looking at me, declared, that she was not genteel
enough to admire it.

Miss Polly confessed, that, if they would but sing English, she would
like it very well.

The brother wished he could raise a riot in the house, because then
he might get his money again.

And, finally, they all agreed that it was monstrous dear.

During the last dance, I perceived standing near the gallery-door,
Sir Clement Willoughby. I was extremely vexed, and would have given
the world to have avoided being seen by him: my chief objection was,
from the apprehension that he would hear Miss Branghton call me
cousin.-I fear you will think this London journey has made me grow
very proud; but indeed this family is so low-bred and vulgar, that
I should be equally ashamed of such a connection in the country,
or anywhere. And really I had already been so much chagrined that
Sir Clement had been a witness of Madame Duval's power over me,
that I could not bear to be exposed to any further mortification.

As the seats cleared, by parties going away, Sir Clement approached
nearer to us. The Miss Branghtons observed with surprise, what a
fine gentleman was come into the gallery; and they gave me great
reason to expect, that they would endeavour to attract his notice,
by familiarity with me, whenever he should join us; and so I formed a
sort of plan to prevent any conversation.  I'm afraid you will think
it wrong; and so I do myself now;-but, at the time, I only considered
how I might avoid immediate humiliation.

As soon as he was within two seats of us, he spoke to me: "I am
very happy, Miss Anville, to have found you, for the ladies below
have each an humble attendant, and therefore I am come to offer my
services here."

"Why then," cried I, (not without hesitating) "if you please,-I will
join them."

"Will you allow me the honour of conducting you?" cried he eagerly;
and, instantly taking my hand, he would have marched away with me:
but I turned to Madame Duval, and said, "As our party is so large,
Madame, if you will give me leave, I will go down to Mrs. Mirvan,
that I may not crowd you in the coach."

And then, without waiting for an answer, I suffered Sir Clement to
hand me out of the gallery.

Madame Duval, I doubt not, will be very angry; and so I am with myself
now, and therefore I cannot b

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