Juliet listened with rapt attention; but in proportion as her security in her own safety became confirmed, her poignant solicitude for that of the Bishop increased; and again she exclaimed, ‘Oh! if my guardian has not escaped!’
The Admiral, turning towards her rather austerely, said, ‘You must have had but a sad dog of a husband, Niece Granville, to think only of an old priest, when you hear of his demise! However, to my seeming, though he might be but a rogue, a husband’s a husband; and I don’t much uphold a wife’s not thinking of that; for, if a woman may mutiny against her husband, there’s an end of all discipline.’
Overwhelmed with shame, Juliet could attempt no self defence; but Lord Melbury warmly assured the Admiral, that his niece, Miss Granville, had never really been married; that a forced, interrupted, and unfinished lay-ceremony, had mockingly been celebrated; accompanied by circumstances atrocious, infamous, and cruel: and that the marriage could never have been valid, either in sight of the church, or of her own conscience.
The Admiral, with avidity and rising delight, sucked in this vindication; and then whispered to Juliet, ‘Pray, if I may make so free, who is this pretty boy, that’s got so much more insight into your affairs than I have? He’s a very pretty boy; but I have no great taste to being put in the rear by him!’
Juliet was beginning to reply, when the Admiral called out, in a tone of some chagrin, ‘Now we are put off from doing the handsome thing! for here’s the outlandish gentry coming among us before we have invited them! And now, you’ll see, they’ll always stand to it that they have the upper hand of us English in politeness! And I had rather have seen them all at the devil!’
Juliet, looking forward, perceived that they were approached by some strangers of a foreign appearance; but they detained not her attention; at one side, and somewhat aloof from them, a form caught her eye, reverend, aged, infirm. She started, and with almost agonized earnestness, advanced rapidly a few steps; then stopt abruptly to renew her examination; but presently, advancing again, called out, ‘Merciful Heaven!’ and, rushing on, with extended arms, and uncontrolled rapture, threw herself at the feet of the ancient traveller; and, embracing his knees, sobbed rather than articulated, in French, ‘My guardian! my preserver! my more than father! — I have not then lost you!’
Deeply affected, the man of years bent over, and blessed her; mildly, yet fondly, uttering, in the same language, ‘My child! my Juliet! — Do I then behold you again, my excellent child!’
Then, helping her to rise, he added, ‘Your willing martyrdom is spared, my dear, my adopted daughter! and I, most mercifully! am spared its bitter infliction. Thanksgiving are all we have to offer, thanksgiving and humble prayers for UNIVERSAL PEACE!’
With anxious tenderness Juliet enquired for her benefactress, the Marchioness; and the Bishop for his niece Gabriella. The Marchioness was safe and well, awaiting a general re-union with her family; Gabriella, therefore, Juliet assured the Bishop, was now, probably in her revered mother’s arms.
All further detail, whether of her own difficulties and sufferings, or of the perils and escapes of the Bishop, during their long separation, they mutually set apart for future communication; every evil, for the present, being sunk in gratitude at their meeting.
Harleigh, who witnessed this scene with looks of love and joy, though not wholly unmixed with suffering impatience, forced himself to stand aloof. Lord Melbury, who had no feeling to hide, nor result to fear, gaily capered with unrestrained delight; and the Admiral, impressed with wonder, yet reverence, his hat in his hand, and his head high up in the air, waited patiently for a pause; and then, bowing to the ground, solemnly said, ‘Mr Bishop, you are welcome to old England! heartily welcome, Mr Bishop! I ought to beg your pardon, perhaps, for speaking to you in English; but I have partly forgot my French; which, not to mince the matter, I never thought it much worth while to study; little enough devizing I should ever meet with a native-born Frenchman who was so honest a man! For it’s pretty much our creed, aboard, though I don’t over and above uphold it myself, except as far as may belong to the sea-service, — to look upon your nation as little better than a cluster of rogues. However, we of the upper class, knowing that we are all alike, in the main, of God’s workmanship, don’t account it our duty to hold you so cheap. Therefore, Mr Bishop, you are heartily welcome to old England.’
The Bishop smiled; too wise to be offended, where he saw that no offence was meant.
‘But, for all that,’ the Admiral continued, ‘I can’t deny but I had as lieve, to the full, if I had had my choice, that my niece should not have been brought up by the enemy; yet I have always had a proper respect for a parson, whether he be of the true religion, or only a Papist. I hold nothing narrower than despising a man for his ignorance; especially when it’s only of the apparatus, and not of the solid part. My niece, Mr Bishop, will tell you the heads of what I say in your own proper dialect.’
The Bishop answered, that he perfectly understood English.
‘I am cordially glad to hear it!’ cried the Admiral, holding out his hand to him; ‘for that’s an item that gives; me at once a good opinion of you! A man can be no common person who has a taste for our sterling sense, after being brought up to frothy compliments; and therefore, Mr Bishop, I beg you to favour me with your company to eat a bit of roast beef with us at our lodging-house; after our plain old English fashion: which, if I should make free to tell you what passes in my mind, I hold to be far wholesomer than your ragouts and fricandos, made up of oil and grease. But I only drop that as a matter of opinion; every nation having a right to like best what it can get cheapest. And if the rest of the passengers are people of a right way of thinking, I beg you to tell them I shall be glad of the favour of their company too.’
The Bishop bowed, with an air of mild satisfaction.
‘And I heartily wish you would give me an item, Monsieur the Bishop, how I might behave more handsomely; for, by what I can make out, you have been as kind to my niece, as if you had been born on this side the Channel; which is no small compliment to make to one born on t’other side; and if ever I forget it, I wish I may go to the bottom! a thing we seamen, who understand something of those matters, (smiling,) had full as lief leave alone.’
He then recommended to them all to stroll upon the sands for a further whet to their appetite; while he went himself to the lodging-house, to see what could be had for a repast.
CHAPTER XCII
Happy to second the benevolent scheme of the kind-hearted Admiral, the Bishop hastened to his fellow-voyagers with the hospitable invitation. Juliet, in whom every feeling was awake to meet, to embrace, and to share her delight with Lady Aurora, would have followed; but Lord Melbury, to avoid, upon so interesting an occasion, any interruption from Mrs Howel, objected to returning to the hotel; and proposed being the messenger to fetch their sister. Juliet joyfully consented, and went to await them in the beautiful verdant recess, between two rocks, overlooking the vast ocean, with which she had already been so much charmed.
No sooner, at this favourite spot, was Juliet alone, than, according to her wonted custom, she vented the fulness of her heart in pious acknowledgements. She had scarcely risen, when again, — though without Lady Aurora, — she saw Lord Melbury; yet not alone; he was arm in arm with Harleigh. ‘My dear new sister,’ he gaily cried, ‘I go now for Aurora. We shall be here presently; but Mr Harleigh is so kind as to promise that he will stand without, as sentinel, to see that no one approaches nor disturbs you.’
He was gone while yet speaking.
The immediate impulse of Juliet urged her to remonstrance, or flight; but it was the impulse of habit, not of reason; an instant, and a look of Harleigh, represented that the total change of her situation, authorized, on all sides, a total change of conduct.
Every part of her frame partook of the emotion with which this sudden consciousness beat at her heart; while her silence, her unresisting stay, and the sight of her varying complexion, thrilled to the soul
of Harleigh, with an encouragement that he trembled with impatience to exchange for certainty. ‘At last, — at last, — may I,’ he cried, ‘under the sanction of a brother, presume upon obtaining a hearing with some little remittance of reserve? of mistrust?’
Juliet dropt her head.
‘Will not Miss Granville be more gracious than Miss Ellis has been? Miss Granville can have no tie but what is voluntary: no hovering doubts, no chilling scruples, no fancied engagements—’
A half sigh, of too recent recollection, heaved the breast of Juliet.
‘To plead,’ he continued, ‘against all confidence; to freeze every avenue to sympathy; to repel, or wound every rising hope! Miss Granville, is wholly independent; mistress of her heart, mistress of herself—’
‘No, Mr Harleigh, no!’ with quickness, though with gentleness, interrupted Juliet.
Harleigh, momentarily startled, ventured to bend his head below her bonnet; and saw, then, that the blush which had visited, flown, and re-visited her face, had fixed itself in the deepest tint upon her cheek. He gazed upon her in ecstatic silence, till, looking up, and, for the first time, suffering her eyes willingly to meet his, ‘No, Mr Harleigh, no!’ she softly repeated, ‘I am not so independent!’ A smile then beamed over her features, so radiant, so embellishing, that Harleigh wondered he had ever thought her beautiful before, as she added, ‘Had I an hundred hearts, — ten thousand times you must have conquered them all!’
Rapture itself, now, is too cold a word, — or too common a one, — to give an adequate idea of the bliss of Harleigh. He took her no longer reluctant hand, and she felt upon it a burning tear as he pressed it to his lips; but his joy was unutterable. The change was so great, so sudden, and so exquisite, from all he most dreaded to all he most desired, that language seemed futile for its expression: and to look at her without fearing to alarm or offend her; to meet, with the softest assurance of partial favour, those eyes hitherto so coldly averted; to hold, unresisted, the fair hand that, but the moment before, it seemed sacrilege even to wish to touch; so, only, could he demonstrate the fulness of his transport, the fervour of his gratitude, the perfection of his felicity.
In Juliet, though happiness was not less exalted, pleasure wore the chastened garb of moderation, even in the midst of a frankness that laid open her heart. Yet, seeing his suit thus authorized by her brother, and certain of the approbation of the Bishop, and of her uncle, to so equal and honourable an alliance; she indulged her soft propensities in his favour, by gently conceding avowals, that rewarded not alone his persevering constancy, but her own long and difficult forbearance. ‘Many efforts, many conflicts,’ she cried, ‘in my cruel trials, I have certainly found harder; but none, none so distasteful, as the unremitting necessity of seeming always impenetrable — where most I was sensitive!’
‘By sweetness such as this,’ cried Harleigh, ‘you would almost persuade me to rejoice at a suspense that has nearly maddened me! Yet, — could you have conceived the agony, the despair of my mind, at your icy, relentless silence! not once to trust me as a friend! not one moment to confide in my integrity! never to consult, to commune, to speak, nor to hear! — You smile? — Can it be at the pain you have inflicted?’ —
‘Oh no, no, no! If I smile, ’tis at the greater pain I have, I trust, averted! While conscious that I might, eventually, be chained to another, every duty admonished me to resist every feeling! — Yet with hope always, ultimately, before me, I had not the force to utter a word, — a baneful word! — that might teach you to renounce me! — even though I deemed it indispensable to my honour to exact a total separation. Had I confided to you my fearful secret, — had you yourself aided the abolition of my shackles, should I not, in a situation so delicate, so critical, have fixed an eternal barrier between us, — or have sacrificed the fame of both to the most wounding of calumnies? Ah no! from the instant that my heart interfered, — that I was conscious of a new motive that urged my wish of liberation, — I have held it my duty, I have felt it my future happiness, to avoid, — to fear, — to fly you!—’
‘I was most favoured, then, it seems,’ replied Harleigh, with a smile of rapture, ‘when I thought you most inexorable? I must thank you for your rejections, your avoidance, your implacable, immoveable coldness?’
‘Reverse, else, the medal,’ cried she, gaily, ‘and see whether the impression will be more to your taste!’
‘Loveliest Miss Ellis! most beloved Miss Granville! My own, — at length! at length! my own sweet Juliet! that, and that only can be to my taste which has brought me to the bliss of this moment!’
With blushing tenderness, Juliet then confessed, that at the moment of his first generous declaration, following the summer-house scene with Elinor, she had felt pierced with an aggravated horrour of her nameless ties, that had nearly burst her heart asunder.
With minute retrospection, then, enjoying even every evil, and finding motives of congratulation from every pain that was past, they mutually recapitulated their feelings, their conjectures, their rising and progressive partiality, since the opening of their acquaintance. One circumstance alone was tinted with regret,— ‘Elinor?’ cried Juliet, ‘Oh! how will Elinor bear to hear of this event!’
‘Fear her not!’ he returned. ‘She has a noble, though, perhaps, a masculine spirit, and she will soon, probably, think of this affair only with pique and wonder, — not against me, for she is truly generous; but against herself, for she is candid and just. She has always internally believed, that perseverance in the honour that she has meant to shew me, must ultimately be victorious; but, where partiality is not desired, it can only be repaid, by man to woman as by woman to man, from weakness, or vanity. Gratitude is all-powerful in friendship, for friendship may be earned; but love, more wilful, more difficult, more capricious, — love must be inspired, or must be caught. When Elinor, who possesses many of the finest qualities of the mind, sees the fallacy of her new system; when she finds how vainly she would tread down the barriers of custom and experience, raised by the wisdom of foresight, and established, after trial, for public utility; she will return to the habits of society and common life, as one awakening from a dream in which she has acted some strange and improbable part.—’
A sound quick, but light, of feet here interrupted the tête à tête, followed by the words, ‘My sister! my sister!’ and, in less than a minute, Lady Aurora was in the arms of Juliet. ‘Ah!’ she cried, ‘You are not, then, gone! dear — cruel sister! — yet you could quit me, and quit me without even a last adieu!’
‘Sweetest, most amiable of sisters!’ cried the happy Juliet; ‘can you wonder I could not take leave of you, when that leave was, I feared, to sunder us for life? when I thought myself destined to exile, slavery, and misery? Could I dare imagine I was so soon to be restored to you? Could I presume to hope that from anguish so nearly insupportable, I was destined to be elevated, — every way! — to the summit of all I can conceive of terrestrial happiness!’
The grateful Harleigh, at these words, came forward to present himself to Lady Aurora; who learnt with enchantment the purposed alliance; not alone from the prospect of permanent happiness which it opened to her sister, but also as a means to overcome all possible opposition, on the part of Lord Denmeath, to a public acknowledgment of relationship.
Juliet, who, in the indulgence of sentiments so long and so imperiously curbed, found a charm nearly as fascinating as that which their avowal communicated to Harleigh, began now, with blushing animation, to recount to her delightedly listening Aurora, the various events, the unceasing obligations, which had formed and fixed her attachment.
A tale which, like this, had equal attraction to the speaker and to the hearers, had little chance to be brief: it was not, therefore, far advanced, when they were joined by Lord Melbury; who, gathering from Lady Aurora the situation of affairs, bounded, wild as a young colt, with joy.
The minutes, now, were lengthening unconsciously to hours, when the various narratives and congratula
tions were interrupted by a loud ‘Halloo!’ followed by the appearance of the old sailor.
‘Please your honours,’ said the worthy tar, ‘master begins to be afeard you’ve as good as forgot him: he’s been walking upon the beach, alongside the old French parson, till one foot is plaguely put to it to wag afore t’other. Howsomever, he’d scorn to give up to a Frenchman, to the longest day he has to live; more especialsome to a parson; you may take Jack’s word for that!’
The happy party now hastened to the strand; but there perceived neither the Bishop nor the Admiral. The sailor, slily grinning at their surprize, told them, with a merry nod, and a significant leer, that he would shew them a sight that would make them stare amain; which was no other than an honest Englishman, sitting, cheek by jowl, beside a Frenchman; as lovingly as if they were both a couple of Christians, coming off the same shore.
He then led them to a bathing-machine; in which the Admiral was civilly, though with great perplexity, labouring to hold discourse with the Bishop.
The impatient Harleigh besought Lord Melbury to be his agent, with the guardian and the uncle of his lovely sister. Lord Melbury joyfully complied. The affair, however momentous, was neither long nor difficult to arrange. The Bishop felt an implicit trust in the known judgment and tried discretion of his ward; and the Admiral held that a female, as the weaker vessel, could never properly, nor even honourably, make the voyage of life, but under the safe convoy of a good husband.
Harleigh, therefore, was speedily summoned into the machine; his proposals were so munificent, that they were applauded rather than approved; and, all descending to the beach, the Bishop took one hand, and the Admiral another, of the blushing Juliet, to present, with tenderest blessings, to the happy, indescribably happy Harleigh.
Juliet, then, had the unspeakable delight of presenting her brother and her sister to her uncle, and to the Bishop. The Admiral, nevertheless, could not resist taking his niece apart, to tell her, that, if he had but had an insight into her being in such a hurry for a husband, he should have made free to speak a good word for a young sea-captain of his acquaintance; a lad for whom he had a great goust, and who would be sure to make his way to the very top; since, already, he had had the luck, while bravely fighting, in two different engagements, to see his two senior officers drop by his side: by which means he had arrived at his promotion of first lieutenant, and of captain. And if, which was likely enough, God willing, he should meet with such another good turn in a third future engagement, he bid fair for being a Commodore in the prime of his days. ‘And then, my dear,’ he continued, ‘when he had been upon a long distant station; or when contrary winds, or the enemy, had stopt his letters, so that you could not guess whether the poor lad were alive or dead; think what would have been your pride to have read, all o’ the sudden, news of him in the Gazette!’
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 356