I HAVE just received, my dearest Sir, your kind present, and still
kinder letter. Surely, never had orphan so little to regret as your
grateful Evelina! Though motherless, though worse than fatherless, bereft from infancy of the two first and greatest blessings of life, never has she had cause to deplore their loss; never has she felt the omission of a parent's tenderness, care, or indulgence; never, but from sorrow for them, had reason to grieve at the separation! Most thankfully do I receive the token of your approbation, and most studiously will I endeavour so to dispose of it, as may merit your generous confidence in my conduct.
Your doubts concerning Mr. Macartney give me some uneasiness. Indeed, Sir, he has not the appearance of a man whose sorrows are the effect of guilt. But I hope, before I leave town, to be better acquainted with his situation, and enabled, with more certainty of his worth, to recommend him to your favour.
I am very willing to relinquish all acquaintance with Sir Clement
Willoughby, as far as it may depend upon myself so to do; but, indeed
I know not how I should be able to absolutely forbid him my sight.
Miss Mirvan, in her last letter, informs me that he is now at Howard
Grove, where he continues in high favour with the Captain, and is
the life and spirit of the house. My time, since I wrote last, has
passed very quietly, Madame Duval having been kept at home by a bad
cold, and the Branghtons by bad weather. The young man, indeed, has
called two or three times; and his behavior, though equally absurd, is more unaccountable than ever: he speaks very little, takes hardly any notice of Madame Duval, and never looks at me without a broad grin. Sometimes he approaches me, as if with intention to communicate intelligence of importance; and then, suddenly stopping short, laughs rudely in my face.
O how happy shall I be, when the worthy Mrs. Clinton arrives!
June 29th.
Yesterday morning, Mr. Smith called to acquaint us that the Hampstead
assembly was to be held that evening; and then he presented Madame
Duval with one ticket, and brought another to me. I thanked him for
his intended civility, but told him I was surprised he had so soon
forgotten my having already declined going to the ball.
"Lord, Ma'am," cried he, "how should I suppose you was in
earnest? come, come, don't be cross; here's your Grandmama ready to
take care of you, so you can have no fair objection, for she'll see
that I don't run away with you. Besides, Ma'am, I got the tickets
on purpose."
"If you were determined, Sir," said I, "in making me this offer, to allow me no choice of refusal or acceptance, I must think myself less obliged to your intention than I was willing to do."
"Dear Ma'am," cried he, "you're so smart, there is no speaking to
you;-indeed you are monstrous smart, Ma'am! but come, your Grandmama
shall ask you, and then I know you'll not be so cruel."
Madame Duval was very ready to interfere; she desired me to make no
further opposition, said she should go herself, and insisted upon my
accompanying her. It was in vain that I remonstrated; I only incurred
her anger: and Mr. Smith having given both the tickets to Madame
Duval with an air of triumph, said he should call early in the evening, and took leave.
I was much chagrined at being thus compelled to owe even the shadow
of an obligation to so forward a young man; but I determined that
nothing should prevail upon me to dance with him, however my refusal
might give offence.
In the afternoon, when he returned, it was evident that he purposed
to both charm and astonish me by his appearance: he was dressed in a
very showy manner, but without any taste; and the inelegant smartness
of his air and deportment, his visible struggle against education to
put on the fine gentleman, added to his frequent conscious glances
at a dress to which he was but little accustomed, very effectually
destroyed his aim of figuring, and rendered all his efforts useless.