LITMIR.BIZ

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to her.

      I do assure you, madam, that I know not his heart, if he has at present any thoughts of marriage.

      She seemed pleased at this assurance.

      I repeated my wishes, that she would take to herself the merit of allowing Mr. Beauchamp to return to his native country: and that she would let me see her hand in Sir Harry's, before I left them.

      And pray, sir, as to his place of residence, were he to come: do you think he should live under the same roof with me?

      You shall govern that point, madam, as you approve or disapprove of his behaviour to you.

      His behaviour to me, sir!—One house cannot, shall not, hold him and me.

      I think, madam, that you should direct in this article. I hope, after a little while, so to order my affairs, as constantly to reside in England. I should think myself very happy if I could prevail upon Mr. Beauchamp to live with me.

      But I must see him, I suppose?

      Not, madam, unless you shall think it right, for the sake of the world's opinion, that you should.

      I can't consent—

      You can, madam! You do!—I cannot allow Lady Beauchamp to be one of those women, who having insisted upon a wrong point, can be convinced, yet not know how to recede with a grace.—Be so kind to yourself, as to let Sir Harry know, that you think it right for Mr. Beauchamp to return; but that it must be upon your own conditions: then, madam, make those conditions generous ones; and how will Sir Harry adore you! How will Mr. Beauchamp revere you! How shall I esteem you!

      What a strange impertinent have I before me!

      I love to be called names by a lady. If undeservedly, she lays herself by them under obligation to me, which she cannot be generous if she resolves not to repay. Shall I endeavour to find out Sir Harry? Or will you, madam?

      Was you ever, Sir Charles Grandison, denied by any woman to whom you sued for favour?

      I think, madam, I hardly ever was: but it was because I never sued for a favour, that it was not for a lady's honour to grant. This is the case now; and this makes me determine, that I will not be denied the grant of my present request. Come, come, madam! How can a woman of your ladyship's good sense (taking her hand, and leading her to the door) seem to want to be persuaded to do a thing she knows in her heart to be right! Let us find Sir Harry.

      Strange man!—Unhand me—He has used me unkindly—

      Overcome him then by your generosity. But, dear Lady Beauchamp, taking both her hands, and smiling confidently in her face, [I could, my dear Dr. Bartlett, do so to Lady Beauchamp,] will you make me believe, that a woman of your spirit (you have a charming spirit, Lady Beauchamp) did not give Sir Harry as much reason to complain, as he gave you?—I am sure by his disturbed countenance—

      Now, Sir Charles Grandison, you are downright affronting. Unhand me!

      This misunderstanding is owing to my officious letter. I should have waited on you in person. I should from the first have put it in your power, to do a graceful and obliging thing. I ask your pardon. I am not used to make differences between man and wife.

      I touched first one hand, then the other, of the perverse baby with my lips—Now am I forgiven: now is my friend Beauchamp permitted to return to his native country: now are Sir Harry and his Lady reconciled—Come, come, madam, it must be so—What foolish things are the quarrels of married people!—They must come to an agreement again; and the sooner the better; before hard blows are struck, that will leave marks—Let us, dear madam, find out Sir Harry—

      And then, with an air of vivacity, that women, whether in courtship or out of it, dislike not, I was leading her once more to the door, and, as I intended, to Sir Harry, wherever he could be found.

      Hold, hold, sir! resisting; but with features far more placid than she had suffered to be before visible—If I must be compelled—You are a strange man, Sir Charles Grandison—If I must be compelled to see Sir Harry—But you are a strange man—And she rang the bell.

      Lady Beauchamp, Dr. Bartlett, is one of those who would be more ready to forgive an innocent freedom, than to be gratified by a profound respect; otherwise I had not treated her with so little ceremony. Such women are formidable only to those who are afraid of their anger, or who make it a serious thing.

      But when the servant appeared, she not knowing how to condescend, I said, Go to your master, sir, and tell him that your lady requests the favour—

      Requests the favour! repeated she; but in a low voice: which was no bad sign.

      The servant went with a message worded with more civility than perhaps he was used to carry to his master from his lady.

      Now, dear Lady Beauchamp, for your own sake; for Sir Harry's sake; make happy; and be happy. Are there not, dear madam, unhappinesses enow in life, that we must wilfully add to them?

      Sir Harry came in sight. He stalked towards us with a parade like that of a young officer wanting to look martial at the head of his company.

      Could I have seen him before he entered, my work would have been easier.

      But his hostile air disposed my lady to renew hostilities.

      She turned her face aside, then her person; and the cloudy indignation with which she entered at first, again overspread her features. Ought wrath, Dr. Bartlett, to be so ready to attend a female will?—Surely, thought I, my lady's present airs, after what has passed between her and me, can be only owing to the fear of making a precedent, and being thought too easily persuaded.

      Sir Harry, said I, addressing myself to him, I have obtained Lady Beauchamp's pardon for the officious letter—

      Pardon, Sir Charles Grandison! You are a good man, and it was kindly intended—

      He was going on: anger from his eyes flashed upon his cheek-bones, and made them shine. My lady's eyes struck fire at Sir Harry, and shewed that she was not afraid of him.

      Better intended, than done, interrupted I, since my lady tells me, that it was the occasion of a misunderstanding—But, sir, all will be right: my lady assures me, that you are not disinclined to comply with the contents; and she has the goodness—

      Pray, Sir Charles, interrupted the lady—

      To give me hopes that she—

      Pray, Sir Charles—

      Will use her interest to confirm you in your favourable sentiments—

      Sir Harry cleared up at once—May I hope, madam—And offered to take her hand.

      She withdrew it with an air. O Dr. Bartlett, I must have been thought an unpolite husband, had she been my wife!

      I took her hand. Excuse this freedom, Sir Harry—For Heaven's sake, madam, (whispering,) do what I know you will do, with a grace—Shall there be a misunderstanding, and the husband court a refused hand?—I then forced her half-unwilling hand into his, with an air that I intended should have both freedom and respect in it.

      What a man have we got here, Sir Harry? This cannot be the modest man, that you have praised to me—I thought a good man must of necessity be bashful, if not sheepish: and here your visitor is the boldest man in England.

      The righteous, Lady Beauchamp, said Sir Harry, with an aspect but half-conceding, is bold as a lion.

      And must I be compelled thus, and by such a man, to forgive you, Sir Harry?—Indeed you were very unkind.

      And you, Lady Beauchamp, were very cruel.

      I did not think, sir, when I laid my fortune at your feet—

      O, Lady Beauchamp! You said cutting things! Very cutting things.

      And did not you, Sir Harry, say, it should be so?—So very peremptorily!

      Not, madam, till you, as peremptorily—

      A little recrimination, thought I, there must be, to keep each in countenance on their past folly.

      Ah, Sir Charles!—You may rejoice that you are not married, said Sir Harry.

      Dear

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