OH, Sir, Lord Orville is still himself! still what, from the moment
I beheld, I believed him to be-all that is amiable in man! and your
happy Evelina, restored at once to spirits and tranquillity, is no
longer sunk in her own opinion, nor discontented with the world;-no
longer, with dejected eyes, sees the prospect of passing her future
days in sadness, doubt, and suspicion!-with revived courage she
now looks forward, and expects to meet with goodness, even among
mankind:-though still she feels, as strongly as ever, the folly of
hoping, in any second instance, to meet with perfection.
Your conjecture was certainly right; Lord Orville, when he wrote that
letter, could not be in his senses. Oh that intemperance should have
power to degrade so low, a man so noble!
This morning I accompanied Mrs. Selwyn to Clifton Hill, where, beautifully situated, is the house of Mrs. Beaumont. Most uncomfortable were my feelings during our walk, which was very slow; for the agitation of my mind made me more than usually sensible how weak I still continue. As we entered the house, I summoned all my resolution to my aid, determined rather to die than give Lord Orville reason to attribute my weakness to a wrong cause. I was happily relieved from my perturbation, when I saw Mrs. Beaumont was alone. We sat with her for, I believe, an hour without interruption; and then we saw a phaeton drive up to the gate, and a lady and gentleman alight from it.
They entered the parlour with the ease of people who were at home. The gentleman, I soon saw, was Lord Merton: he came shuffling into the room with his boots on, and his whip in his hand; and having made something like a bow to Mrs. Beaumont, he turned towards me. His surprise was very evident; but he took no manner of notice of me. He waited, I believe, to discover, first, what chance had brought me to that house, where he did not look much rejoiced at meeting me. He seated himself very quietly at the window, without speaking to any body.
Mean time the lady, who seemed very young, hobbling rather than walking
into the room, made a passing courtsy to Mrs. Beaumont, saying, "How are you, Ma'am?" and then, without noticing any body else, with an air of languor she flung herself upon a sofa, protesting, in a most affected voice, and speaking so softly she could hardly be heard, that she was fatigued to death. "Really, Ma'am, the roads are so monstrous dusty,-you can't imagine how troublesome the dust is to one's eyes!-and the sun, too, is monstrous disagreeable!-I dare say I shall be so tanned: I shan't be fit to be seen this age. Indeed, my Lord, I won't go out with you any more, for you don't care where you take one."
"Upon my honour," said Lord Merton, "I took you the pleasantest ride
in England, the fault was in the sun, not me."
"Your Lordship is in the right," said Mrs. Selwyn, "to transfer the
fault to the sun, because it has so many excellencies to counterbalance
partial inconveniences that a little blame will not injure that in
our estimation."
Lord Merton looked by no means delighted at this attack; which
I believe she would not so readily have made, but to revenge his
neglect of us.
"Did you meet your brother, Lady Louisa?" said Mrs. Beaumont.
"No, Ma'am. Is he rode out this morning?"
I then found, what I had before suspected, that this lady was Lord
Orville's sister: how strange, that such near relations should be so
different to each other! There is, indeed, some resemblance in their
features; but, in their manners, not the least.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Beaumont, "and I believe he wished to see you."
"My Lord drove so monstrous fast," said Lady Louisa, "that perhaps
we passed him. He frightened me out of my senses; I declare my head
is quite giddy. Do you know, Ma'am, we have done nothing but quarrel
all the morning?-You can't think how I've scolded; have not I, my
Lord?" and she smiled expressively at Lord Merton.
"You have been, as you always are," said he, twisting his whip with
his fingers, "all sweetness."
"O fie, my Lord," cried she, "I know you don't think so; I know you
think me very ill-natured;-don't you, my Lord?"
"No, upon my honour;-how can your Ladyship ask such a question? Pray
how goes time? my watch stands."
"It is almost three," answered Mrs. Beaumont.
"Lord, Ma'am, you frighten me!" cried Lady Louisa; and then, turning
to Lord Merton, "why now, you wicked creature you, did you not tell
me it was but one?"