Complete Works of Frances Burney

by Frances Burney

  Fearful of appearing distrustful, Juliet looked satisfied, and again he went on.

  ‘Since, then, ’tis clear that there can be no danger in so simple an intercourse, why should I not give myself the gratification of telling you, that every sight of you does me good? renovates my spirits; purifies my humours; sweetens my blood; and braces my nerves? Never talk to me with mockery of fairyism, witchcraft, and sylphs; the real influence of lovely youth, is a thousand times more wonderful, more potent, and more incredible! When I have seen you only an instant, I feel in charity with all mankind for the rest of the day; and, at night, my kind little friends present you to me again; renew every pleasing idea; revive the most delightful images; and paint you to me — just such as I see you at this moment!’

  Juliet, embarrassed, talked of returning to the house.

  ‘Do you blush?’ cried he, with quickness, and evidently increasing admiration; ‘is it possible that you are not enough habituated to praise, to hear it without modest confusion? I have seen “full many a lady” — but you — O you! — so perfect and so peerless are created, of every creature best!’

  ‘My whole life has been spent in worshipping beauty, till within these very few years, when I have gotten something like a surfeit, and meant to give it over. For I have watched and followed Beauties, till I have grown sick of them. I have admired fine features, only to be disgusted with vapid vanity. A face with a little meaning, though as ugly as sin and satan, I have lately thought worth forty of them! But you — fair sorceress! you have conjured me round again to my old work! I have found the spell irresistible. You have such intelligence of countenance; such spirit with such sweetness, smiles so delicious, though rare! looks so speaking; grace so silent; — that I forget you are a beauty; and fasten my eyes upon you, only to understand what you say when you don’t utter a word! That’s all! Don’t be uneasy, therefore, at my staring. Though, to be candid, we know ourselves so little, that, ’tis possible, had you not first caught my eyes as a beauty, I might never have looked at you long enough to find out your wit!’

  A footman now came to acquaint Sir Jaspar, that the rice-soup, which he had ordered, was ready; and that the ladies were waiting for the honour of his company to breakfast.

  ‘I heartily wish they would wait for my company, till I desire to have theirs!’ Sir Jaspar muttered: but, sensible of the impropriety of a refusal, arose, and, taking off his hat, with a studied formality, which he hoped would impress the footman with respect for its object, followed his messenger: whispering, nevertheless, as he quitted the building, ‘Leave you for a breakfast! — I would almost as willingly be immersed in the witches’ cauldron, and boiled into morsels, to become a breakfast myself, for the amusement of the audience at a theatre!’

  CHAPTER LV

  Juliet, who perceived that the windows were still crowded with company, contentedly kept her place; and, taking up the second volume of the Guardian, found, in the lively instruction, the chaste morality, and the exquisite humour of Addison, an enjoyment which no repetition can cloy.

  In a short time, to her great discomposure, she was broken in upon by Ireton; who, drawing before the door, which he shut, an easy chair, cast himself indolently upon it, and, stretching out his arms, said, ‘Ah ha! the fair Ellis! How art thee, my dear?’

  Far more offended than surprised by this freedom, Juliet, perceiving that she could not escape, affected to go on with her reading, as if he had not entered the building.

  ‘Don’t be angry, my dear,’ he continued, ‘that I did not speak to you before all those people. There’s no noticing a pretty girl, in public, without raising such a devil of a clamour, that it’s enough to put a man out of countenance. Besides, Mrs Ireton is such a very particular quiz, that she would be sure to contrive I should never have a peep at you again, if once she suspected the pleasure I take in seeing you. However, I am going to turn a dutiful son, and spend some days here. And, by that means, we can squeeze an opportunity, now and then, of getting a little chat together.’

  Juliet could no longer refrain from raising her head, with amazement, at this familiar assurance: but he went on, totally disregarding the rebuke of her indignant eye.

  ‘How do you like your place here, my dear? Mrs Ireton’s rather qualmish, I am afraid. I never can bear to stay with her myself; except when I have some point to carry. I can’t devise what the devil could urge you to come into such a business. And where’s Harleigh? What’s he about? Gone to old Nick I hope with all my heart! But you, — why are you separated? What’s the reason you are not with him?’

  Yet more provoked, though determined not to look up again, Juliet fixed her eyes upon the book.

  Ireton continued: ‘What a sly dog he is, that Harleigh! But what the deuce could provoke him to make me cut such a silly figure before Lord Melbury, with my apologies, and all that? He took me in, poz! I thought he’d nothing to do with you. And if you had not had that fainting fit, at the concert; which I suppose you forgot to give him notice of, that put him so off his guard, I should have believed all he vowed and swore, of having no connection with you, and all that, to this very moment.’

  This was too much. Juliet gravely arose, put down her book, and said, with severity, ‘Mr Ireton, you will be so good as to let me pass!’

  ‘No, not I! No, not I, my dear!’ he answered, still lolling at his ease. ‘We must have a little chat together first. ’Tis an age since I have been able to speak with you. I have been confounded discreet, I promise you. I have not told your secret to a soul.’

  ‘What secret, Sir?’ cried Juliet, hastily.

  ‘Why who you are, and all that.’

  ‘If you knew, Sir,’ recovering her calmness, she replied, ‘I should not have to defend myself from the insults of a son, while under the protection of his mother!’

  ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ cried he. ‘What a droll piece of dainty delicacy thee art! I’d give a cool hundred, this moment, only to know what the deuce puts it into thy little head, to play this farce such a confounded length of time, before one comes to the catastrophe.’

  Juliet, with a disdainful gesture, again took her book.

  ‘Why won’t you trust me, my dear? You sha’n’t repent it, I promise you. Tell me frankly, now, who are you? — Hay?’

  Juliet only turned over a new leaf of her book.

  ‘How can you be so silly, child? — Why won’t you let me serve you? You don’t know what use I may be of to you. Come, make me your friend! only trust me, and I’ll go to the very devil for you with pleasure.’

  Juliet read on.

  ‘Come, my love, don’t be cross! Speak out! Put aside these dainty airs. Surely you a’n’t such a little fool, as to think to take me in, as you have done Melbury and Harleigh?’

  Juliet felt her cheeks now heated with increased indignation.

  ‘As to Melbury,— ’tis a mere schoolboy, ready to swallow any thing; and as to Harleigh, he’s such a queer, out of the way genius, that he’s like nobody: but as to me, my dear, I’m a man of the world. Not so easily played upon, I promise you! I have known you from the very beginning! Found you out at first sight! Only I did not think it worth while telling you so, while you appeared so confounded ugly. But now that I see you are such a pretty creature, I feel quite an interest for you. So tell me who are you? Will you?’

  Somewhat piqued, at length, by her resolute silence, ‘Nay,’ he added, with affected scorn, ‘don’t imagine I have any view! Don’t disturb yourself with any freaks and qualms of that sort. You are a fine girl, to be sure. Devilish handsome, I own; but still too — too — grave, — grim, — What the deuce is the word I mean? for my taste. I like something more buckish. So pray make yourself easy. I shan’t interfere with your two sparks. I am perfectly aware I should have but a bad chance. I know I am neither as good a pigeon to pluck as Melbury, nor as marvellous a wight to overcome as Harleigh. But I can’t for my life make out why you don’t take to one or t’other of them, and put yourself at your ease. I’m de
adly curious to know what keeps you from coming to a finish. Melbury would be managed the easiest; but I strongly suspect you like Harleigh best. What do you turn your back for? That I mayn’t see you blush? Come, come, don’t play the baby with a man of the world like me.’

  To the infinite relief of the disgusted Juliet, she now heard the approach of some footstep. Ireton, who heard it also, nimbly arose, and, softly moving his chair from the door, cast half his body out of the window, and, lolling upon his elbows, began humming an air; as if totally occupied in regarding the sea.

  A footman, who entered, told Juliet that his lady desired that she would come to the parlour, to play and sing to the company, while they breakfasted.

  Juliet, colouring at this unqualified order, hesitated what to answer; while Ireton, turning round, and pretending not to have heard what was said, maliciously, made the man repeat, ‘My lady, Sir, bid me tell Miss Ellis, that she must come to play and sing to the company.’

  ‘Play and sing?’ repeated Ireton. ‘O the devil! Must we be bored with playing and singing too? But I did not know breakfast was ready, and I am half starved.’

  He then sauntered from the building; but the moment that the footman was out of sight, turned back, to say, ‘How devilish provoking to be interrupted in this manner! How can we contrive to meet again, my dear?’

  The answer of Juliet was shutting and bolting the door.

  His impertinence, however, occupied her mind only while she was under its influence; the insignificance of his character, notwithstanding the malice of his temper, made it sink into nothing, to give way to the new rising difficulty, how she might bear to obey, or how risk to refuse, the rude and peremptory summons which she had just received. Ought I, she cried, to submit to treatment so mortifying? Are there no boundaries to the exactions of prudence upon feeling? or, rather, is there not a mental necessity, a call of character, a cry of propriety, that should supersede, occasionally, all prudential considerations, however urgent? — Oh! if those who receive, from the unequal conditions of life, the fruits of the toils of others, could, — only for a few days, — experience, personally, how cruelly those toils are embittered by arrogance, or how sweetly they may be softened by kindness, — the race of the Mrs Iretons would become rare, — and Lady Aurora Granville might, perhaps, be paralleled!

  Yet, with civility, with good manners, had Mrs Ireton made this request; not issued it as a command by a footman; Juliet felt that, in her present dependent condition, however ill she might be disposed for music, or for public exhibition, she ought to yield: and even now, the horror of having another asylum to seek; the disgrace of seeming driven, thus continually, from house to house; though they could not lessen her repugnance to indelicacy and haughtiness, cooled all ardour of desire for trying yet another change; till she should have raised a sufficient sum for joining Gabriella; and softening, nay delighting, the future toils to which she might be destined, by the society of that cherished friend.

  In a few minutes, she was visited by Selina, who, rapturously embracing her, declared that she could not stay away from her any longer; and volubly began her usual babble of news and tales; to all which Juliet gave scarcely the coldest attention; till she had the satisfaction of hearing that the health of Elinor was re-established.

  Selina then owned that she had been sent by Mrs Ireton, to desire that Miss Ellis would make more haste.

  Juliet worded a civil excuse; which Selina, with hands uplifted, from amazement, carried back to the breakfast-room.

  Soon afterwards, peals of laughter announced the vicinity of the Miss Crawleys; who merrily called aloud upon Ireton, to come and help them to haul The Ellis, will ye, nill ye? to the piano-forte, to play and sing.

  Happy in this intimation of their purpose, Juliet bolted the door; and would not be prevailed upon to open it, either by their vociferous prayers, or their squalls of disappointment.

  But, in another minute, a slight rustling sound drawing her eyes to a window, she saw Ireton preparing to make a forced entry.

  She darted, now, to the door, and, finding the passage clear, as the Miss Crawleys had gone softly round, to witness the exploit of Ireton, seized the favourable moment for eluding observation; and was nearly arrived at the house, before the besiegers of the cage perceived that the bird was flown.

  CHAPTER LVI

  The two sisters no sooner discovered the escape of their prey, than, screaming with violent laughter, they began a romping race in its pursuit.

  Near the entrance into the hall, Juliet was met by Selina, with commands from Mrs Ireton, that she would either present herself, immediately, to the company; or seek another abode.

  In minds of strong sensibility, arrogance rouses resentment more quickly even than injury: a message so gross, an affront so public, required, therefore, no deliberation on the part of Juliet; and she was answering that she would make her preparations to depart; when the Miss Crawleys, rushing suddenly upon her, exclaimed, with clamourous joy, ‘She’s caught! She’s caught! The Ellis is caught!’ and, each of them seizing a hand, they dragged her, with merry violence, into the breakfast-room.

  Her hoydening conductors failed not to excite the attention of the whole assembly; though it fell not, after the first glance, upon themselves. Juliet, to whom exercise and confusion gave added beauty; and whom no disorder of attire could rob of an air of decency, which, inherent in her nature, was always striking in her demeanor; was no sooner seen, than, whether with censure or applause, she monopolized all remark.

  Mrs Ireton haughtily bid her approach.

  Averse, yet unwilling to risk the consequences of a public breach, she slowly advanced.

  ‘I am afraid, Ma’am,’ said Mrs Ireton, with a smile of derision; ‘I am afraid, Ma’am, you have hurried yourself? It is not much above an hour, I believe, since I did myself the honour of sending for you. I have no conception how you have been able to arrive so soon! Pray how far do you think it may be from hence to the Temple? ten or twelve yards, I verily believe! You must really be ready to expire!’

  Having constrained herself to hear thus much, Juliet conceived that the duty even of her humble station could require no more; she made, therefore, a slight reverence, with intention to withdraw. But Mrs Ireton, offended, cried, ‘Whither may you be going, Ma’am? — And pray, Ma’am, — if I may take the liberty to ask such a question, — who told you to go? — Was it I? — Did any body hear me? — Did you, Lady Arramede? — or you, Miss Brinville? — or only Miss Ellis herself? For, to be sure I must have done it: I take that for granted: she would not, certainly, think of going without leave, after I have sent for her. So I make no doubt but I did it. Though I can’t think how it happened, I own. ’Twas perfectly without knowing it, I confess. In some fit of absence — perhaps in my sleep; — for I have slept, too, perhaps, without knowing it!’

  Sarcasms so witty, uttered by a lady at an assembly in her own house, could not fail of being received with applause; and Mrs Ireton, looking around her triumphantly, regarded the disconcerted Juliet as a completely vanquished vassal. In a tone, therefore, that marked the most perfect self-satisfaction, ‘Pray, Ma’am,’ she continued, ‘for what might you suppose I did myself the favour to want you? was it only to take a view of your new costume? ’Tis very careless and picturesque, to be sure, to rove abroad in that agreeable dishabille, just like the “maiden all forlorn;” or rather to speak with mere exactitude, like the “man all tattered and torn,” for ’tis more properly his costume you adopt, than the neat, tidy maiden’s.’

  The warm-hearted young Lady Barbara, all pity and feeling for Juliet, here broke from her quiet and cautious aunt, and, with irrepressible eagerness, exclaimed, ‘Mrs Ireton, ’twas Mr Loddard, your own little naughty nephew, who deranged in that manner the dress of that elegant Miss Ellis.’

  The Miss Crawleys, now, running to the little boy, called out, ‘The Loddard! the Loddard! ’tis the Loddard has set up the new costume!’

  Mrs Ireton, though affe
cting to laugh, had now done with the subject; and, while she was taking a pinch of snuff, to gain time to suggest some other, Sir Jaspar Herrington, advancing to Juliet, said, ‘Has this young lady no place?’ and, gallantly taking her hand, he led her to his own chair, and walked to another part of the room.

  A civility such as this from Sir Jaspar, made all the elders of the company stare, and all the younger titter; but the person the most surprized was Mrs Ireton, who hastily called out, ‘Miss Ellis would not do such a thing! Take Sir Jaspar’s own seat! That has his own particular cushions! She could not do such a thing! I should think not, at least! I may judge ill, but I should think not. A seat prepared for Sir Jaspar by my own order! Miss Ellis can dispense with having an easy chair, and three cushions, I should presume! I may be wrong, to be sure, but I should presume so!’

  ‘Madam,’ answered Sir Jaspar, ‘in days of old, I never could bear to sit, when I saw a lady standing; and though those days are past, alas! and gone, — still I cannot, even to escape a twitch of the gout, see a fair female neglected, without feeling a twitch of another kind, that gives me yet greater pain.’

  ‘Your politeness, Sir Jaspar,’ replied Mrs Ireton, ‘we all know; and, if it were for one of my guests, — but Miss Ellis can hardly desire, I should suppose, to see you drop down with fatigue, while she is reposing upon your arm-chair. Not that I pretend to know her way of thinking! I don’t mean that. I don’t mean to have it imagined I have the honour of her confidence; but I should rather suppose she could not insist upon turning you out of your seat, only to give you a paroxysm of the gout.’

  However internally moved, Juliet endured this harangue in total silence; convinced that where all authority is on the side of the aggressor, resistance only provokes added triumph. Her looks, therefore, though they shewed her to be hurt and offended, evinced a dignified forbearance, superiour to the useless reproach, and vain retaliation, of unequal contention.