CHAP. I.

MR. Glanville, who was too much in Love to paſs the Night with any great Degree of Tranquillity, under the Apprehenſions he felt; it being the Nature of that Paſ⯑ſion, to magnify the moſt inconſiderable Trifles into Things of the greateſt Import⯑ance, when they concern the beloved Ob⯑ject; did not fail to torment himſelf with a thouſand different Fears, which the myſteri⯑ous [2] Behaviour of his Father, and the more myſterious Words of his Miſtreſs, gave Riſe to. Among many various Conjectures, all equally unreaſonable, he fixed upon one, no way ad⯑vantageous to Sir Charles; for, ſuppoſing that the Folly of Arabella had really diſguſted him, and made him deſirous of breaking off the de⯑ſigned Match between them; he was, as he thought, taking Meaſures to bring this about, knowing, that if Lady Bella refuſed to fulfil her Father's Deſire in this Particular, a very conſiderable Eſtate would deſcend to him.

Upon any other Occaſion, Mr. Glanville would not have ſuſpected his Father of ſo un⯑generous an Action; but Lovers think every thing poſſible, which they fear; and being pre⯑poſſeſſed with this Opinion, he reſolved the next Morning to ſound his Father's Inclina⯑tions, by intreating him to endeavour to pre⯑vail upon Lady Bella to marry him before her Year of Mourning for the marquis was ex⯑pired.

Attending him, therefore, at Breakfaſt, in his own Chamber, he made his deſigned Re⯑queſt, not without heedfully obſerving his Countenance at the ſame time; and trembling, leſt he ſhould make him an Anſwer, that might confirm his uneaſy Suſpicion.

Sir Charles, however, agreeably ſurpriſed him, by promiſing to comply with his Deſire that Day; for, added he, tho' my Niece has ſome odd ways, yet, upon the Whole, ſhe is a very accompliſhed Woman; and when you are her Huſband, you may probably find the Means of curing her of thoſe little Follies, [3] which at preſent are conſpicuous enough; but being occaſioned by a Country Education, and a perfect Ignorance of the World, the In⯑ſtruction, which then you will not ſcruple to give her, and which, from a Huſband, with⯑out any Offence to her Delicacy, ſhe may receive, may reform her Conduct; and make her Behaviour as complete, as, it muſt be confeſſed, both her Perſon and Mind now are.

Mr. Glanville having acquieſced in the Juſ⯑tice of this Remark, as ſoon as Breakfaſt was over, went to viſit the two Ladies, who ge⯑nerally drank their Chocolate together.

Miſs Glanville being then in Lady Bella's Apartment, he was immediately admitted, where he found them engaged in a high Diſ⯑pute; and, much againſt his Will, was obliged to be Arbitrator in the Affair, they having, up⯑on his Entrance, both appealed to him.

But, in order to place this momentous Af⯑fair in a true Light, 'tis neceſſary to go back a little, and acquaint the Reader with what had paſſed in the Apartment; and alſo, following the Cuſtom of the Romance and Novel-Wri⯑ters, in the Heart, of our Heroine.

No ſooner were her fair Eyes open in the Morning, than the unfortunate Sir George pre⯑ſenting himſelf to her Imagination, her Thoughts to uſe Scudery's Phraſe, were at a cruel War with each other: She wiſhed to prevent the Death of this obſequious Lover; but ſhe could not re⯑ſolve to preſerve his Life, by giving him that Hope he required; and without which, ſhe [4] feared, it would be impoſſible for him to live.

After pondering a few Hours upon the Ne⯑ceſſity of his Caſe, and what a juſt Regard to her own Honour required of her, Decorum prevailed ſo much over Compaſſion, that ſhe reſolved to abandon the miſerable Sir George to all the Rigour of his Deſtiny; when, hap⯑pily for the diſconſolate Lover, the Hiſtory of the fair Amalazotha coming into her Mind, ſhe remembred, that this haughty Princeſs, having refuſed to marry the Perſon, her Fa⯑ther recommended to her, becauſe he had not a Crown upon his Head; nevertheleſs, when he was dying for Love of her, condeſcended to viſit him, and even to give him a little Hope, in order to preſerve his Life: See conceived it could be no Blemiſh to her Character, if ſhe followed the Example of this moſt glorious Princeſs; and ſuffered herſelf to relax a little in her Severity, to prevent the Effects of her Lo⯑ver's Deſpair.

Fear not, Arabella, ſaid ſhe to herſelf; fear not to obey the Dictates of thy Compaſſion, ſince the glorious Amalazontha juſtifies, by her Example, the Means thou wilt uſe to preſerve a noble Life, which depends upon a few Words thou ſhalt utter.

When ſhe had taken this Reſolution, ſhe rung her Bell for her Women; and as ſoon as ſhe was dreſſed, ſhe diſmiſſed them all but Lucy, whom ſhe ordered to bring her Paper and Pens, telling her, ſhe would write an Anſwer to Sir George's Letter.

Lucy obeyed with great Joy; but by that [5] time ſhe had brought her Lady all the Mate⯑rials for Writing, her Mind was changed; ſhe having reflected, that Amalazontha, whoſe Ex⯑ample, in order to avoid the Cenſure of future Ages, ſhe was reſolved exactly to follow, did not write to Ambiome [...], but paid him a Viſit, ſhe reſolved to do the like; and therefore bid Lucy take them away again, telling her: She had thought better of it, and would not write to him.

Lucy, extremely concerned at this Reſolution, obeyed her very ſlowly, and with greeat ſeem⯑ing Regret.

I perceive, ſaid Arabella, you are afraid, I ſhall abandon the unfortunate Man you ſo⯑licit▪ for, to the Violence of his Deſpair; but tho' I do not intend to write to him, yet I'll make uſe of a Method, perhaps as effectual; for, to ſpeak truly, I mean to make him a Viſit; for by this time his Fever is, I ſuppoſe, vio⯑lent enough to make him keep his Bed.

And will you be ſo good, Madam, ſaid Lucy, to go and ſee the poor Gentleman? I warrant you, he will be ready to die for Joy, when he ſees you.

There muſt be proper Precautions uſed, ſaid Arabella, to prevent thoſe Conſequences, which the ſudden and unexpected Sight of me may produce. Thoſe about him, I ſuppoſe, will have Diſcretion enough for that: Therefore give Or⯑ders for the Coach to be made ready, and tell my Women, they muſt attend me; and be ſure you give them Directions, when I enter Sir George's Chamber, to ſtay at a convenient Diſtance, in order to leave me an Opportunity [6] of ſpeaking to him, without being heard: As for you, you may approach the Bed-ſide with me; ſince, being my Confident, you may hear all we have to ſay.

Arabella, having thus ſettled the Ceremonial of her Viſit, according to the Rules preſcribed by Romances, ſat down to her Tea-table, having ſent to know, if Miſs Glanville was up, and received for Anſwer, that ſhe would at⯑tend her at Breakfaſt.

Arabella, who had at firſt determined to ſay nothing of this Affair to her Couſin, could not reſiſt the Deſire ſhe had of talking upon a Subject ſo intereſting; and, telling her with a Smile, that ſhe was about to make a very charitable Viſit that Morning, aſked her, if ſhe was diſpoſed to bear her Company in it.

I know you Country Ladies, ſaid Miſs Glanville, are very fond of viſiting your ſick Neighbours: For my Part, I do not love ſuch a grave kind of Amuſement; yet, for the ſake of the Airing, I ſhall be very willing to attend you.

I think, ſaid Arabella, with a more ſerious Air than before, it behoves every generous Per⯑ſon to compaſſionate the Misfortunes of their Acquaintance and Friends, and to relieve them as far as lies in their Power; but thoſe Miſeries we ourſelves occaſion to others, demand, in a more particular Manner, our Pity; and, if con⯑ſiſtent with Honour, our Relief.

And pray, returned Miſs Glanville, who is it you have done any Miſchief to, which you are to repair by this charitable Viſit, as you call it?

[7] The Miſchief I have done, replied Arabella, bluſhing, and caſting down her Eyes, was not voluntary, I aſſure you: Yet I will not ſcruple to repair it, if I can; tho', ſince my Power is confined by certain unavoidable Laws, my En⯑deavours may not haply have all the Succeſs I could wiſh.

Well, but, dear Couſin, interrupted Miſs Glanville, tell me in plain Engliſh, what this Miſchief is, which you have done; and to what Purpoſe you are going out this Morning?

I am going to pay a Viſit to Sir George Bell⯑mour, replied Arabella; and I intreat you, fair Couſin, to pardon me for robbing you of ſo accompliſhed a Lover. I really always thought he was in Love with you, till I was undeceiv⯑ed by ſome Words he ſpoke Yeſterday; and a Letter I received from him laſt Night, in which he has been bold enough to declare his Paſſion to me, and, through the Apprehenſion of my Anger, is this Moment dying with Grief; and 'tis to reconcile him to Life, that I have prevailed upon myſelf to make him a Viſit; in which charitable Deſign, as I ſaid before, I ſhould be glad of your Company.

Miſs Glanville, who believed not a Word Lady Bella had ſaid, burſt out a laughing, at a Speech, that appeared to her ſo extremely falſe and ridiculous.

I ſee, ſaid Arabella, you are of a Humour to divert yourſelf with the Miſeries of a de⯑ſpairing Lover; and in this Particular, you greatly reſemble the fair and witty Doraliſa, who always jeſted at ſuch Maladies as are oc⯑caſioned by Love: However, this Inſenſibility [8] does not become you ſo well as her, ſince all her Conduct was conformable to it, no Marr in the World being bold enough to talk to her of Love; but you, Couſin, are ready, even by your own Confeſſion, to liſten to ſuch Diſ⯑courſes from any body; and therefore this Be⯑haviour, in you, may be with more Juſtice termed Levity, than Indifference.

I perceive, Couſin, ſaid Miſs Glanville, I have always the worſt of thoſe Compariſons you are pleaſed to make between me and other People; but, I aſſure you, as free and indiſ⯑creet as you think me, I ſhould very much ſcruple to viſit a Man, upon any Occaſion whatever.

I am quite aſtoniſhed, Miſs Glanville, re⯑ſumed Arabella, to hear you aſſume a Cha⯑racter of ſo much Severity; you, who have granted Favours of a Kind in a very great De⯑gree criminal.

Favours! interrupted Miſs Glanville, crimi⯑nal Favours! Pray explain yourſelf, Madam.

Yes, Couſin, ſaid Arabella, I repeat it again; criminal Favours, ſuch as allowing Perſons to talk to you of Love; not forbidding them to write to you; giving them Opportunities of being alone with you for ſeveral Moments to⯑gether; and ſeveral other Civilities of the like Nature, which no Man can poſſibly merit, un⯑der many Years Services, Fidelity, and Pains: All theſe are criminal Favours, and highly blame⯑able in a Lady, who has any Regard for her Reputation.

All theſe, replied Miſs Glanville, are no⯑thing in Compariſon of making them Viſits; and [9] no Woman, who has any Reputation at all, will be guilty of taking ſuch Liberties.

What! Miſs, replied, Arabella, will you dare, by this Inſinuation, to caſt any Cenſures upon the Virtue of the divine Mandana, the haughty Amalazontha, the fair Statira, the cold and rigid Pariſatis, and many other illuſtrious Ladies, who did not ſcruple to viſit their Lo⯑vers, when confined to their Beds, either by the Wounds they received in Battle, or the more cruel and dangerous ones they ſuffered from their Eyes? Theſe chaſte Ladies, who ne⯑ver granted a Kiſs of their Hand to a Lover, till he was upon the Point of being their Huſ⯑band, would nevertheleſs moſt charitably con⯑deſcend to approach their Bed-ſide, and ſpeak ſome compaſſionate Words to them, in order to promote their Cure, and make them ſubmit to live; nay, theſe divine Beauties would not refuſe to grant the ſame Favour to Perſons whom they did not love, to prevent the fatal Conſequences of their Deſpair.

Lord, Madam! interrupted Miſs Glanville, I wonder you can talk ſo blaſphemouſly, to call a Parcel of confident Creatures divine, and ſuch terrible Words.

Do you know, Miſs, ſaid Arabella, with a ſtern Look, that 'tis of the greateſt Princeſſes that ever were, whom you ſpeak in this irre⯑verent Manner? Is it poſſible, that you can be ignorant of the ſublime Quality of Mandana, who was the Heireſs of Two powerful King⯑doms? Are you not ſenſible, that Amalazontha was Queen of Turringia? And will you pre⯑tend [10] to deny the glorious Extraction of Statira and Pariſatis, Princeſſes of Perſia?

I ſhall not trouble myſelf to deny any thing about them, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville; for I never heard of them before; and really I do not chooſe to be always talking of Queens and Princeſſes, as if I thought none but ſuch great People were worthy my Notice: It looks ſo affected, I ſhuld imagine every one laughed at me, that heard me.

Since you are ſo very ſcrupulous, returned Arabella, that you dare not imitate the Sublimeſt among Mortals, I can furniſh you with many Examples, from the Conduct of Perſons, whoſe Quality was not much ſuperior to yours, which may reconcile you to an Action, you at preſent, with ſo little Reaſon, condemn: And, to name but One among ſome Thouſands, the fair Cleo⯑nice, the moſt rigid and auſtere Beauty in all Sar⯑dis, paid ſeveral Viſits to the paſſionate Ligda⯑mis, when his Melancholy, at the ill Succeſs of his Paſſion, threw him into a Fever, that con⯑fined him to his Bed.

And pray, Madam, who was that Cleonice? ſaid Miſs Glanville; and where did ſhe live?

In Sardis, I tell you, ſaid Arabella, in the Kingdom of Lydia.

Oh! then it is not in our Kingdom, ſaid Miſs Glanville: What ſignifies what Foreigners do? I ſhall never form my Conduct, upon the Example of Outlandiſh People; what is com⯑mon enough in their Countries, would be very particular here; and you can never perſuade me, that it is ſeemly for Ladies to pay Viſits to Men in their Beds.

[11] A Lady, ſaid Arabella, extremely angry at her Couſin's Obſtinacy, who will ſuffer Men to preſs her Hand, write to her, and talk to her of Love, ought to be aſhamed of ſuch an affected Niceneſs, as that you pretend to.

I inſiſt upon it, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glan⯑ville, that all thoſe innocent Liberties you rail at, may be taken by any Woman, without giving the World room to cenſure her: but, without being very bold and impudent, ſhe cannot go to ſee Men in their Beds; a Free⯑dom that only becomes a Siſter, or near Re⯑lation.

So then, replied Arabella, reddening with Vexation, you will perſiſt in affirming the di⯑vine Mandana was impudent?

If ſhe paid ſuch indiſcreet Viſits as thoſe, ſhe was, ſaid Miſs Glanville.

Oh Heavens! cried Arabella, have I lived to hear the moſt illuſtrious Princeſs, that ever was in the World, ſo ſhamefully reflected on?

Bleſs me, Madam! ſaid Miſs Glanville, what Reaſon have you to defend the Character of this Princeſs ſo much? She will hardly thank you for your Pains, I fanſy.

Were you acquainted with the Character of that moſt generous Princeſs, ſaid Arabella, you would be convinced, that ſhe was ſenſible of the ſmalleſt Benefits; but it is not with a View of acquiring her Favour, that I defend her againſt your inhuman Aſperſions, ſince it is more than Two thouſand Years ſince ſhe died; yet common Juſtice obliges me to vindicate a Perſon ſo illuſtrious for her Birth and Virtue; [12] and were you not my Couſin, I ſhould expreſs my Reſentment in another Manner, for the Injury you do her.

Truly, ſaid Miſs Glanville, I am not much obliged to you Madam, for not downright quarrelling with me for one that has been in her Grave Two thouſand Years: However, nothing ſhall make me change my Opinion, and I am ſure moſt People will be of my Side of the Argument.

That Moment Mr. Glanville ſending for Permiſſion to wait upon Arabella, ſhe ordered him to be admitted, telling Miſs Glanville, ſhe would acquaint her Brother with the Diſpute: To which ſhe conſented.

CHAP. II.

YOU are come very opportunely, Sir, ſaid. Arabella, when he entered the Room, to be Judge of a great Controverſy between Miſs Glanville and myſelf. I beſeech you therefore, let us have your Opinion upon the Matter.

Miſs Glanville maintains, that it is leſs cri⯑minal in a Lady to hear Perſons talk to her of Love, allow them to kiſs her Hand, and permit them to write to her, than to make a charitable Viſit to a Man who is confined to his Bed [13] through the Violence of his Paſſion and De⯑ſpair; the Intent of this Viſit being only to pre⯑vent the Death of an unfortunate Lover, and, if neceſſary, to lay her Commands upon him to live.

And this latter is your Opinion, is it not Madam? ſaid Mr. Glanville.

Certainly, Sir, replied Arabella, and in this I am juſtified by all the Heroines of Antiquity.

Then you muſt be in the Right, Madam, re⯑turned Mr. Glanville, both becauſe your own Judgment tells you ſo, and alſo the Example of theſe Heroines you mention.

Well, Madam, interrupted Miſs Glanville haſtily, ſince my Brother has given Sentence on your Side, I hope you will not delay your Viſit to Sir George any longer.

How! ſaid Mr. Glanville, ſurpriſed, is Lady Bella going to viſit Sir George? Pray, Madam, may I preſume to-inquire the Reaſon for your doing him this extraordinary Favour?

You are not very wiſe, ſaid Arabella, looking gravely upon Miſs Glanville, to diſcover a Thing, which may haply create a Quarrel be⯑tween your Brother, and the unfortunate Per⯑ſon you ſpeak of: Yet ſince this Indiſcretion cannot be recalled, we muſt endeavour to pre⯑vent the Conſequences of it.

I aſſure you, Madam, interrupted Mr. Glan⯑ville, extremely impatient to know the Mean⯑ing of theſe Hints, you have nothing to fear from me: Therefore you need not think your⯑ſelf under any Neceſſity of concealing this Affair from me.

[14] You are not, haply, ſo moderate as you pre⯑tend, ſaid Arabella, (who would not have been diſpleaſed to have ſeen him in all the jealous Tranſports of an enraged Orontes); but what⯑ever enſues, I can no longer keep from your Knowledge, a Truth your Siſter has begun to diſcover; but, in telling you what you deſire to know, I expect you will ſuppreſs all Inclina⯑tions to Revenge, and truſt the Care of your In⯑tereſt to my Generoſity.

You are to know then, that in the Perſon of your Friend Sir George, you have a Rival, haply the more to be feared, as his Paſſion is no leſs reſpectful than violent: I poſſibly tell you more than I ought, purſued ſhe, bluſhing, and caſting down her Eyes, when I confeſs, that for certain Conſiderations, wherein perhaps you are concerned, I have received the firſt In⯑ſinuation of this Paſſion with Diſdain enough; and I aſſure myſelf, that you are too generous to deſire any Revenge upon a miſerable Rival, of whom Death is going to free you.

Then, taking Sir George's Letter out of her Cabinet, ſhe preſented it to Mr. Glanville.

Read this, added ſhe; but read it without ſuffering yourſelf to be tranſported with any violent Motions of Anger: And as in Fight, I am perſuaded you would not oppreſs a fallen and vanquiſhed Foe; ſo in Love, I may hope, an unfortunate Rival will merit your Com⯑paſſion.

Never doubt it, Madam, replied Mr. Glan⯑ville, receiving the Letter, which Miſs Glanville, with a beating Heart, earneſtly deſired to hear read. Her Brother, after aſking Permiſſion of [15] Arabella, prepared to gratify her Curioſity; but he no ſooner read the firſt Sentence, than, notwithſtanding all his Endeavours, a Smile ap⯑peared in his Face; and Miſs Glanville, leſs able, and indeed leſs concerned to reſtrain her Mirth at the uncommon Stile, burſt out a laughing, with ſo much Violence, as obliged her Brother to ſtop, and counterfeit a terrible Fit of Cough⯑ing, in order to avoid giving Arabella the like Offence.

The Aſtoniſhment of this Lady, at the ſur⯑priſing and unexpected Effect her Lover's Let⯑ter produced on Miſs Glanville, kept her in a profound Silence, her Eyes wandering from the Siſter to the Brother; who, continuing his Cough, was not able, for ſome Moments, to go on with his Reading.

Arabella, during this Interval, having reco⯑vered herſelf a little, aſked Miſs Glanville, if ſhe found any thing in a Lover's Deſpair, capable of diverting her ſo much, as ſhe ſeemed to be with that of the unfortunate Sir George?

My Siſter, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville, preventing her Reply, knows ſo many of Sir George's Infidelities, that ſhe cannot perſuade herſelf he is really in ſuch a dangerous Way as he inſinuates: Therefore you ought not to be ſurpriſed, if ſhe is rather diſpoſed to laugh at this Epiſtle, than to be moved with any Con⯑cern for the Writer, who, though he is my Ri⯑val, I muſt ſay, appears to be in a deplorable Condition.

Pray, Sir, reſumed Arabella, a little compo⯑ſed by thoſe Words, finiſh the Letter: Your [16] Siſter may poſſibly find more Cauſe for Pity than Contempt, in the latter Part of it.

Mr. Glanville, giving a Look to his Siſter, ſufficient to make her comprehend, that he would have her reſtrain her Mirth for the future, proceeded in his Reading; but every Line in⯑creaſing his ſtrong Inclination to laugh, when he came to the pathetic Wiſh, that her fair Eyes might ſhed ſome Tears upon his Tomb, no longer able to keep his aſſumed Gravity, he threw down the Letter in a counterfeited Rage.

Curſe the ſtupid Fellow! cried he, is he mad, to call the fineſt Black Eyes in the Univerſe, fair. Ah! Couſin, ſaid he to Arabella, to muſt be little acquainted with the Influence of your Eyes, ſince he can ſo egregiouſly miſtake their Colour.

And it is very plain, replied Arabella, that you are little acquainted with the ſublime Lan⯑guage in which he writes, ſince you find Fault with an Epithet, which marks the Beauty, not the Colour, of thoſe Eyes he praiſes; for, in fine, Fair is indifferently applied, as well to Black and Brown Eyes, as to Light and Blue ones, when they are either really lovely in themſelves, or by the Lover's Imagination created ſo: And therefore, ſince Sir George's Prepoſſeſſion has made him ſee Charms in my Eyes, which queſtionleſs are not there; by calling them fair, he has very happily expreſſed himſelf, ſince therein he has the Sanction of thoſe great Hiſtorians, who wrote the Hiſtories of Lovers he ſeems to imitate, as well in his Actions as Stile.

[17] I find my Rival is very happy in your Opi⯑nion, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville; and I am apt to believe, I ſhall have more Reaſon to envy than pity his Situation.

If you keep within the Bounds I preſcribe you, replied Arabella, you ſhall have no Rea⯑ſon to envy his Situation; but, conſidering the Condition to which his Deſpair has by this Time certainly reduced him, Humanity requires that we ſhould take ſome Care of him; and, to ſhew you how great my Opinion of your Ge⯑neroſity is, I will even intreat you to accom⯑pany me in the Viſit I am going to make him.

Mr. Glanville, being determined, if poſſible, to prevent her expoſing herſelf, affected to be extremely moved at this Requeſt; and, riſing from his Chair in great ſeeming Agitation, tra⯑verſed the Room for ſome Moments, without ſpeaking a Word: Then ſuddenly ſtopping;

And can you, Madam, ſaid he, looking upon Arabella, ſuppoſe, that I will conſent to your viſiting my Rival; and that I will be mean enough to attend you myſelf to his Houſe? Do you think, that Orontes you have often re⯑proached me with, would act in ſuch a Manner?

I don't know how Orontes would have acted in this Caſe, ſaid Arabella, becauſe it never happened that ſuch a Proof of his Submiſſion was ever deſired of him; but, conſidering that he was of a very fiery and jealous Diſpoſition, it is probable he might act as you do.

I always underſtood, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glan⯑ville, that Orontes was a Favourite of yours, but it ſeems I was miſtaken.

[18] You will be very unjuſt, ſaid Arabella, to draw any unfavourable Concluſion from what I have ſaid, to the Prejudice of that valiant Prince, for whom I confeſs I have a great Eſ⯑teem; and truly whoever reflects upon the great Actions he did in the Wars between the Amazons and the fierce Naobarzanes King of the Cilicians, muſt needs conceive a very high Idea of his Virtue; but if I cannot bring the Example of Orontes to influence you in the pre⯑ſent Caſe, I can mention thoſe of other Per⯑ſons, no leſs illuſtrious for their Birth and Cou⯑rage, than him. Did not the brave Memnon, when his Rival Oxyatres was ſick, intreat the beautiful Barſina to favour him with a Viſit? And the complaiſant Huſband of the divine Pa⯑riſatis was not contented with barely deſiring her to viſit Lyſimachus, who was dying with Deſpair at her Marriage, but would many times bring her himſelf to the Bed-ſide of this unfortunate Lover, and, leaving her there, give him an Opportunity of telling her what he ſuffered for her ſake.

I am afraid, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville, I ſhall never be capable of imitating either the brave Memnon, nor the complaiſant Lyſimachus, in this Caſe, and the Humour of Orontes ſeems to me the moſt commendable.

Nevertheleſs, ſaid Arabella, the Humour of Orontes coſt him an infinite Number of Pains; and it may happen, you will as near reſemble him in his Fortune as you do in his Diſpoſition: But pray let us end this Diſpute at preſent. If you are not generous enough to viſit an un⯑fortunate Rival, you ſhall not put a Stop to [19] the Charity of my Intentions; and ſince Miſs Glanville is all of a ſudden become ſo ſevere, that ſhe will not accompany me in this Viſit, I ſhall be contented with the Attendance of my Women.

Saying this, ſhe roſe from her Seat, calling Lucy, and ordered her to bid her Companions attend.

Mr. Glanville, ſeeing her thus determined, was almoſt mad with Vexation.

Upon my Soul, Madam, ſaid he, feizing her Hand, you muſt not go.

How, Sir! ſaid Arabella, ſternly.

Not without ſeeing me die firſt, reſumed he, in a languiſhing Tone.

You muſt not die, replied Arabella, a little ſoftened, nor muſt you pretend to hinder me from going.

Nay, Madam, ſaid Glanville, one of theſe two Things will certainly happen: Either you muſt reſolve not to viſit Sir George, or elſe be contented to ſee me die at your Feet.

Was ever any Lady in ſo cruel a Dilemma? ſaid Arabella, throwing herſelf into the Chair in a languiſhing Poſture: What can I do to prevent the Fate of two Perſons, one of whom I infinitely pity, and the other, obſtinate as he is, I cannot hate? Shall I reſolve to let the miſerable Bellmour die, rather than grant him a Favour the moſt rigid Virtue would not re⯑fuſe him? or ſhall I, by oppoſing the impetuous Humour of a Lover, to whom I am ſome⯑what obliged, make myſelf the Author of his Death? Fatal Neceſſity! which obliges me either to be cruel or unjuſt; and, with a Diſpo⯑ſition [20] to neither, makes me, in ſome Degree, guilty of both!

CHAP. III.

WHILE Arabella was uttering this pa⯑thetic Complaint, Mr. Glanville, with great Difficulty, kept himſelf from ſmiling; and, by ſome ſupplicating Looks to his Siſter, prevented her laughing out; yet ſhe gigled in ſecret behind her Fan: But Arabella was ſo loſt in her melancholy Reflections, that ſhe kept her Eyes immoveably fixed on the Ground for ſome Moments: At laſt, caſting an upbraiding Glance at Glanville;

Is it poſſible, cruel Perſon that you are ! ſaid ſhe to him, that you can, without Pity, ſee me ſuffer ſo much Uneaſineſs; and, knowing the Senſibility of my Temper, can expoſe me to the Grief of being acceſſary to the Death of an unfortunate Man, guilty indeed of a too violent Paſſion, which merits a gentler Puniſh⯑ment, than that you doom him to?

Don't be uneaſy, dear Couſin, interrupted Miſs Glanville; I dare aſſure you Sir George won't die.

It is impoſſible to think that, ſaid Arabella, ſince he has not ſo much as received a Com⯑mand from me to live; but tell me truly, pur⯑ſued ſhe, do you believe it probable, that he will obey me, and live?

[21] Indeed, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville, I could ſwear for him that he will.

Well, replied Arabella, I will content myſelf with ſending him my Commands in Writing; but it is to be feared they will not have ſo much Efficacy upon his Spirit.

Mr. Glanville, extremely pleaſed that ſhe had laid aſide her Deſign of viſiting Sir George, did not oppoſe her writing to him, though he was plotting how to prevent the Letter reaching his Hands; and while ſhe went into her Cloſet to write, he conferred with his Siſter upon the Means he ſhould uſe, expreſſing, at the ſame time, great Reſentment againſt Sir George, for endeavouring to ſupplant him in his Couſin's Affection.

What then, ſaid Miſs Glanville, do you really imagine Sir George is in Love with Lady Bella?

He is either in Love with her Perſon or Eſtate, replied Mr. Glanville, or perhaps with both; for ſhe is handſome enough to gain a Lover of his Merit, though ſhe had no For⯑tune; and ſhe has Fortune enough to do it, though ſhe had no Beauty.

My Couſin is well enough, to be ſure, ſaid Miſs Glanville; but I never could think her a Beauty.

If, replied Mr. Glanville, a moſt lovely Complection, regular Features, a fine Stature, an elegant Shape, and an inexpreſſible Grace in all her Motions, can form a Beauty, Lady Bella may pretend to that Character, without any Diſpute.

[22] Though ſhe was all that you ſay, returned Miſs Glanville, I am certain Sir George is not in Love with her.

I wiſh I was certain of that, replied Mr. Glanville; for 'tis very probable you are miſ⯑taken.

You may ſee by his Letter, interrupted Miſs Glanville, what a Jeſt he makes of her; and if you had heard how he talked to her the other Day in the Garden, you would have died with Laughing; yet my poor Couſin thought he was very ſerious, and was ſo fooliſhly pleaſed!

I aſſure you Charlotte, ſaid Mr. Glanville, gravely, I ſhall take it very ill, if you make ſo free with your Couſin's little Foibles; and if Sir George preſumes to make a Jeſt of her, as you ſay, I ſhall teach him better Manners.

You are the ſtrangeſt Creature in the World! ſaid Miſs Glanville: A Minute or two ago, you was wiſhing to be ſure he was not in Love with her; and now you are angry, when I aſſure you he is only in Jeſt.

Arabella, that Moment coming out of her Cloſet, broke off their Diſcourſe. I have written to Sir George, ſaid ſhe, addreſſing herſelf to Mr. Glanville; and you are at Liberty, if you pleaſe, to read my Letter, which I pro⯑poſe to ſend away immediately.

Mr. Glanville, taking the Letter out of her Hand, with a low Bow, began to read it to himſelf; but Arabella, willing his Siſter ſhould alſo be acquainted with the Contents, obliged him, much againſt his Will, to read it aloud. It was as follows:

Mr. Glanville, finding by this Epiſtle, that Arabella did not deſign to encourage the Ad⯑dreſſes of Sir George, would not have been againſt his receiving it, had he not feared the Conſequence of his having ſuch a convincing Proof of the Peculiarity of her Temper in his Poſſeſſion; and while he kept the Letter in his Hand, as if he wanted to conſider it a little better, he meditated on the Means to prevent its being ever delivered; and had poſſibly fixed upon ſome ſucceſsful Contrivance, when a [24] Servant coming in, to inform the Ladies, that Sir George was come to wait on them, put an End to his Schemes; and he immediately ran down to receive him, not being willing to in⯑creaſe, by his Stay, the Aſtoniſhment and Con⯑fuſion, which appeared in the Countenance of Arabella, at hearing a Man, whom ſhe had believed and repreſented to be dying, was come to pay her a Viſit.

CHAP. IV.

MISS Glanville, not having ſo much De⯑licacy as her Brother, could not help exulting a little upon this Occaſion.

After the terrible Fright you have been in, Madam, ſaid ſhe, upon Sir George's Account, I wonder you do not rather think it is his Ghoſt than himſelf, that is come to ſee us.

There is no Queſtion, but it is himſelf that is come, ſaid Arabella, (who had already recon⯑ciled this Viſit, to her firſt Thoughts of him;) and it is, haply, to execute his fatal Deſign in my Preſence, that has brought him here; and, like the unfortunate Agilmond, he means to convince me of his Fidelity and Love, by fall⯑ing upon his Sword before my Eyes.

[25] Bleſs me, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville, what horrid Things come into your Head! I vow, you terrify me out of my Wits, to hear you.

There is no Occaſion for your Fears, in⯑terrupted Arabella: Since we already ſuſpect his Deſigns, it will be very eaſy to prevent them: Had the Princeſs of the Sarmatians known the fatal Intentions of her deſpairing Lover, doubt⯑leſs, ſhe would have uſed ſome Precautions to hinder him from executing them; for want of which, ſhe ſaw the miſerable Agilmond wel⯑tering in his Blood at her Feet; and with Rea⯑ſon accuſed herſelf of being the Cauſe of ſo deplorable a Spectacle.

The Aſtoniſhment Miſs Glanville was in, to hear her Couſin talk in this Manner, kept her from giving her any Interruption, while ſhe re⯑lated ſeveral other terrible Inſtances of Deſpair.

In the mean time, Sir George, who was im⯑patient to go up to Lady Bella's Apartment, having flattered himſelf with an Hope, that his Letter was favourably received; and that he ſhould be permitted to hope at leaſt; made a ſhort Viſit to Sir Charles in his own Room; and, accompanied by Mr. Glanville, who was reſolv⯑ed to ſee in what manner Arabella received him, went to her Apartment.

As he had taken care, at his Entrance, to accommodate his Looks to the Character he had aſſumed of an humble deſpairing Lover, Arabella no ſooner ſaw him, but her Counte⯑nance changed; and, making a Sign to Mr. Glanville, who could not comprehend what ſhe meant, to ſeize upon the Guard of his Sword, ſhe haſtily ſtept forward to meet him.

[26] I am too well convinced, ſaid ſhe to Sir George, that the Intent of your coming hither To day, is to commit ſome Violence againſt yourſelf before my Eyes: But liſten not, I be⯑ſeech you, to the Dictates of your Deſpair: Live; I command you, live; and ſince you ſay, I have the abſolute Diſpoſal of your Life, do not deprive yourſelf of it, without the Conſent of her, on whom you profeſs to have beſtowed it.

Sir George, who did not imagine Arabella would communicate his Letter to her Couſins, and only expected ſome diſtant Hints from her concerning it, was ſo confounded at this Re⯑ception before them, that he was not able to reply: He bluſhed, and turned pale alternately; and, not daring to look, either upon Miſs Glan⯑ville, or her Brother, or to meet the Eyes of the fair Viſionary, who, with great Impatience, ex⯑pected his Anſwer, he hung down his Head in a very ſilly Poſture; and, by his Silence, con⯑firmed Arabella in her Opinion.

As he did not want for Wit and Aſſurance, during that Interval of Silence, and Expecta⯑tion from all Parties; his Imagination ſuggeſted to him the Means of extricating himſelf out of the ridiculous Perplexity he was in; and as it concerned him greatly to avoid any Quarrel, with the Brother and Siſter, he determined to turn the whole Matter into a Jeſt; but, if poſ⯑ſible, to manage it ſo, that Arabella ſhould not enter into his Meaning.

Raiſing therefore his Eyes, and looking upon Arabella with a melancholy Air;

[27] You are not deceived, Madam, ſaid he: This Criminal, with whom you are ſo juſtly offend⯑ed, comes with an Intention to die at your Feet, and breathe out his miſerable Life, to ex⯑piate thoſe Crimes of which you accuſe him: But ſince your ſevere Compaſſion will oblige me to live, I obey, oh! moſt divine, but cruel Arabella! I obey your harſh Commands; and, by endeavouring to live, give you a more con⯑vincing Proof of that Reſpect and Submiſſion I ſhall always have for your Will.

I expected no leſs from your Courage and Generoſity, ſaid Arabella, with a Look of great Complacency; and ſince you ſo well know how to imitate the great Lyſimachus in your Obedience, I ſhall not be leſs acknowleging then the fair Pariſatis; but will have for you an Eſteem equal to that Virtue I have ob⯑ſerved in you.

Sir George, having received this gracious Pro⯑miſe, with a moſt profound Bow, turned to Mr. Glanville, with a kind of chaſtened Smile upon his Countenance.

And, you, fortunate and deſerving Knight, ſaid he, happy in the Affections of the faireſt Perſon in the World! grudge me not this ſmall Alleviation of my Misfortunes; and envy me not that Eſteem, which alone is able to make me ſuffer Life, while you poſſeſs, in the Heart of the divine Arabella, a Felicity that might be envied by the greateſt Monarchs in the World.

As diverting as this Scene was, Mr. Glan⯑ville was extremely uneaſy: For though Sir George's Stratagem took, and he believed he [28] was only indulging the Gaiety of his Humour, by carrying on this Farce; yet he could not endure, he ſhould divert himſelf at Arabella's Expence. The ſolemn Speech he had made him, did indeed force him to ſmile; but he ſoon aſ⯑ſumed a graver Look, and told Sir George, in a low Voice, that when he had finiſhed his Viſit, he ſhould be glad to take a Turn with him in the Garden.

Sir George promiſed to follow him, and Mr. Glanville left the Room, and went into the Gardens; where the Baronet, having taken a reſpectful Leave of Arabella, and, by a ſly Glance, convinced Miſs Glanville, he had ſa⯑crificed her Couſin to her Mirth, went to join her Brother.

Mr. Glanville, as ſoon as he ſaw him, walk⯑ed to meet him with a very reſerved Air: Which Sir George obſerving, and being reſolved to keep up his Humour;

What, inhuman, but too happy Lover, ſaid he, what, am I to underſtand by that Cloud upon your Brow? Is it poſſible, that thou canſt envy me the ſmall Comfort I have re⯑ceived; and, not ſatisfied with the glorious Advantages thou poſſeſſeſt, wilt thou ſtill deny me that Eſteem, which the divine Arabella has been pleaſed to beſtow upon me?

Pray, Sir George, ſaid Mr. Glanville, lay aſide this pompous Style: I am not diſpoſed to be merry at preſent, and have not all the Re⯑liſh for this kind of Wit, that you ſeem to ex⯑pect. I deſired to ſee you here, that I might tell you without Witneſſes, I take it extreme⯑ly ill, you ſhould preſume to make my Couſin [29] the Object of your Mirth. Lady Bella, Sir, is not a Perſon, with whom ſuch Liberties ought to be taken; nor will I, in the double Character of her Lover and Relation, ſuffer it from any one whatever.

Cruel Fortune! ſaid Sir George, ſtepping back a little, and lifting up his Eyes, ſhall I al⯑ways be expoſed to thy Perſecutions? And muſt I, without any apparent Cauſe, behold an Enemy in the Perſon of my Friend; who, though, without murmuring, I reſign to him the adorable Arabella, is yet reſolved to diſ⯑pute with me, a Satisfaction, which does not deprive him of any Part of that glorious For⯑tune to which he is deſtined? Since it is ſo, unjuſt and cruel Friend, purſued he, ſtrike this Breaſt, which carries the Image of the divine Arabella; but think not, that I will offer to defend myſelf, or lift my Sword, againſt a Man beloved by her.

This is all very fine, returned Mr. Glan⯑ville, hardly able to forbear laughing; but 'tis impoſſible, with all your Gaiety, to hinder me from being ſerious upon this Buſineſs.

Then be as ſerious as thou wilt, dear Charles, interrupted Sir George, provided you will allow me to be gay; and not pretend to infect me with thy unbecoming Gravity.

I have but a few Words to ſay to you, then, Sir, replied Mr. Glanville: Either behave with more Reſpect to my Couſin; or prepare to give me Satisfaction, for the Inſults you offer her.

Oh! I underſtand you, Sir, ſaid Sir George; and becauſe you have taken it into your Head [30] to be offended at a Trifle of no Conſequence in the World, I muſt give you a fair Chance to run me through the Body! There is ſomething very fooliſh, ſaith, in ſuch an extravagant Ex⯑pectation: But ſince Cuſtom has made it ne⯑ceſſary, that a Man muſt venture his Soul and Body upon theſe important Occaſions; becauſe I will not be out of the Faſhion, you ſhall com⯑mand me whenever you think ſit; though I ſhall fight with my Schoolfellow with a very ill Will, I aſſure you.

There is no Neceſſity for fighting, ſaid Mr. Glanville, bluſhing at the ludicrous Light, in which the gay Baronet had placed his Challenge: The Conceſſion I have required, is very ſmall, and not worth the conteſting for, on your Side. Lady Beila's Peculiarity, to which you contri⯑bute ſo much, can afford you, at beſt, but an ill-natured Diverſion, while it gives me a real Pain; and ſure, you muſt acknowlege, you are doing me a very great Injury, when you endeavour to confirm a Lady, who is to be my Wife, in a Behaivour that excites your Mirth, and makes her a fit Object for your Ridicule, and Contempt.

You do Lady Bella, a mnch greater Injury than I do, replied Sir George, by ſuppoſing, ſhe can ever be an Object of Ridicule and Con⯑tempt: I think very highly of her Underſtand⯑ing; and though the Bent of her Studies has given her Mind a romantic Turn, yet the Singularity of her Manners is far leſs diſagree⯑able, than the lighter Follies of moſt of her Sex.

[31] But to be abſolutely perfect, interrupted Mr. Glanville, I muſt cure her of that Singularity; and therefore I beg you will not perſiſt in aſ⯑ſuming a Behaviour conformable to her ro⯑mantic Ideas; but rather help me to baniſh them from her Imagination.

Well, replied Sir George, ſince you no longer threaten, I'll do what I can to content you; but I muſt quit my Heroics by Degrees, and ſink with Decency into my own Character; other⯑wiſe ſhe will never endure me in her Preſence.

Arabella and Miſs Glanville, appearing in the Walk, broke off the Converſation. The Baronet and Mr. Glanville walked forward to meet them; but Arabella, who did not deſire Company, ſtruck into another Walk, whi⯑ther Mr. Glanville following, propoſed to join her; when he ſaw his Father, who had been taking a Turn there alone, make up to Ara⯑bella; and, ſuppoſing he would take that Op⯑portunity to talk to her concerning him, he went back to his Siſter and Sir George, whoſe Converſation he interrupted, to the great Regret of Miſs Glanville.

CHAP. V.

ARABELLA no ſooner ſaw Sir Charles advancing towards her, when, ſenſible of the Conſequence of being alone with a Per⯑ſon whom ſhe did not doubt, would make uſe of that Advantage, to talk to her of Love, ſhe endeavoured to avoid him, but in vain; for Sir Charles, gueſſing her Intentions, walked haſtily up to her; and, taking hold of her Hand,

You muſt not go away, Lady Bella, ſaid he: I have ſomething to ſay to you.

Arabella, extremely diſcompoſed at this Be⯑haviour, ſtruggled to free her Hand from her Uncle; and, giving him a Look, on which Diſ⯑dain and Fear were viſibly painted,

Unhand me, Sir, ſaid ſhe, and force me not to forget the Reſpect I owe you, as my Uncle, by treating you with a Severity ſuch uncom⯑mon Inſolence demands.

Sir Charles, letting go her Hand in a great Surprize, at the Word Inſolent, which ſhe had uſed, aſked her, If ſhe knew to whom ſhe was ſpeaking?

Queſtionleſs, I am ſpeaking to my Uncle, replied ſhe; and 'tis with great Regret I ſee myſelf obliged to make uſe of Expreſſions no [33] way conformable to the Reſpect I bear that ſacred Character.

And, pray, Madam, ſaid Sir Charles, ſome⯑what ſoftened by this Speech, who is it that obliges you to lay aſide that Reſpect you ſeem to acknowlege is due to your Uncle?

You do, Sir, replied ſhe; and 'tis with in⯑finite Sorrow, that I beheld you aſſuming a Character unbecoming the Brother of my Fa⯑ther.

This is pretty plain, indeed, interrupted Sir Charles: But pray, Madam, inform me, what it is you complain of.

You, queſtionleſs, know much better than I can tell you, replied Arabella, bluſhing, the Offence I accuſe you of; nor is it proper for me to mention, what it would not become me to ſuffer.

Zounds! cried Sir Charles, no longer able to ſuppreſs his growing Anger, this is enough to make a Man mad.

Ah! I beſeech you, Sir, reſumed Arabella, ſuffer not an unfortunate and ill-judged Paſ⯑ſion to be the Bane of all your Happineſs and Virtue: Recall your wandring Thoughts; re⯑flect upon the Diſhonour you will bring upon yourſelf, by perſiſting in ſuch unjuſtifiable Sen⯑timents.

I do not know how it is poſſible to avoid it, ſaid Sir Charles; and, notwithſtanding all this fine Reaſoning, there are few People but would fly into greater Extremities; but my Affection for you makes me.—

Hold, hold, I conjure you, Sir, interrupted Arabella; force me not to liſten to ſuch injurious [34] Language; carry that odious Affection ſome⯑where elſe; and do not perſecute an unfortu⯑nate Maid, who has contributed nothing to thy Fault, and is only guilty of too much Com⯑paſſion for thy Weakneſs.

Good God, cried Sir Charles, ſtarting back, and looking upon Arabella with Aſtoniſhment; how I pity my Son! What would I not give, if he did not love this Girl?

Think not, replied Arabella, that the Paſſion your Son has for me, makes your Condition a bit the worſe; for I would be ſuch as I am, with reſpect to you, were there no Mr. Glan⯑ville in the World.

I never thought, Niece, ſaid Sir Charles, af⯑ter a little Pauſe, that any Part of my Beha⯑viour, could give you the Offence you com⯑plain of, or authorize that Hatred and Con⯑tempt you take the Liberty to expreſs for me: But ſince it is ſo, I promiſe you, I will quit your Houſe, and leave you to your ſelf; I have always been ſolicitous for your Welfare; and, ungrateful as you are—

Call me not ungrateful, interrupted Ara⯑bella again: Heaven is my Witneſs, that had you not forgot I was your Niece, I would have always remembred you was my Uncle; and not only have regarded you as ſuch, but have looked upon you as another Father, under whoſe Direction Providence had placed me, ſince it had deprived me of my real Father; and whoſe Tenderneſs and Care, might have in ſome meaſure ſupplied the Loſs I had of him: But Heaven has decreed it otherwiſe; and ſince it is his Will, that I ſhould be deprived of the [35] Comfort and Aſſiſtance my Orphan State re⯑quires, I muſt ſubmit, without murmuring, to my Deſtiny. Go then, unfortunate and la⯑mented Uncle, purſued ſhe, wiping ſome Tears from her fine Eyes; go, and endeavour by Reaſon and Abſence to recover thy Re⯑poſe; and be aſſured, whenever you can con⯑vince me you have triumphed over theſe Sen⯑timents which now cauſe both our Unhappineſs, you ſhall have no Cauſe to complain of my Conduct towards you.

Finiſhing theſe Words, ſhe left him with ſo much Speed, that it would have been impoſ⯑ſible for him to have ſtopped her, though he had intended it: But indeed, he was ſo loſt in Wonder and Confuſion at a Behaviour for which he was not able to aſſign any other Cauſe than Madneſs, that he remained fixed in the ſame Poſture of Surprize, in which ſhe had left him; and from which he was firſt in⯑terrupted by the Voice of his Son, who, ſee⯑ing Arabella flying towards the Houſe in great ſeeming Emotion, came to know the Reſult of their Converſation.

Sir, ſaid Mr. Glanville, who had ſpoken to his Father before, but had no Anſwer, will you not inform me, what Succeſs you have had with my Couſin? How did ſhe receive your Propoſal.

Speak of her no more, ſaid Sir Charles, ſhe is a proud ungrateful Girl, and unworthy the Affection you have for her.

Mr. Glanville, who trembled to hear ſo un⯑favourable an Anſwer to his Inquiries, was ſtruck dumb with his Surprize and Grief; when [36] Sir Charles taking Notice of the Alteration in his Countenance;

I am ſorry, ſaid he, to find you have ſet your Heart upon this fantaſtic Girl: If ever ſhe be your Wife, which I very much doubt, ſhe will make you very unhappy: But, Charles, purſued he, I would adviſe you to think no more of her; content yourſelf with the Eſtate you gain by her Refuſal of you: With that Ad⯑dition to your own Fortune, you may pretend to any Lady whatever; and you will find many that are full as agreeable as your Couſin, who will be proud of your Addreſſes.

Indeed, Sir, ſaid Mr. Glanville, with a Sigh, there is no Woman upon Earth whom I would chooſe to marry, but Lady Bella: I flattered myſelf, I had been happy enough to have made ſome Progreſs in her Affection; but it ſeems, I was miſtaken; however, I ſhould be glad to know, if ſhe gave you any Reaſons for refuſing me.

Reaſons! ſaid Sir Charles: There is no mak⯑ing her hear Reaſon, or expecting Reaſon from her; I never knew ſo ſtrange a Woman in my Life: She would not allow me to ſpeak what I intended concerning you; but interrupted me, every Moment, with ſome high-flown Stuff or other.

Then I have not loſt all Hopes of her, cried Mr. Glanville eagerly; for ſince ſhe did not hear what you had to ſay, ſhe could not poſ⯑ſibly deny you.

But ſhe behaved in a very impertinent Man⯑ner to me, interrupted Sir Charles; complained of my harſh Treatment of her; and ſaid ſeve⯑ral [37] other Things, which, becauſe of her uncom⯑mon Style, I could not perfectly underſtand; yet they ſeemed ſhocking; and, upon the Whole, treated me ſo rudely, that I am determined to leave her to herſelf, and trouble my Head no more about her.

For God's ſake, dear Sir, ſaid Mr. Glan⯑ville, alarmed at this Reſolution, ſuſpend your Anger, till I have ſeen my Couſin: There is ſome Miſtake, I am perſuaded, in all this. I know ſhe has ſome very odd Humours, which you are not ſo well acquainted with, as I am. I'll go to her, and prevail upon her to explain herſelf.

You may do ſo, if you pleaſe, replied Sir Charles; but I fear it will be to very little Pur⯑poſe; for I really ſuſpect her Head is a little turned: I do not know what to do with her: It is not fit ſhe ſhould have the Management of herſelf; and yet 'tis impoſſible to live upon eaſy Terms with her.

Mr. Glanville, who did not doubt but Ara⯑bella had been guilty of ſome very ridiculous Folly, offered nothing more in her Juſtifica⯑tion; but, having attended his Father to his own Chamber went to Arabella's Apartment.

He found the penſive Fair-one, in a melan⯑choly Poſture, her Head reclined upon one of her fair Hands; and though her Eyes were fixed upon a Book ſhe held in the other, yet ſhe did not ſeem to read, but rather to be wholly buried in Contemplation.

Mr. Glanville having ſo happily found her alone (for her Women were not then in her Chamber) ſeated himſelf near her; having firſt [38] aſked Pardon for the Interruption he had given to her Studies; and Arabella, throwing aſide her Book, prepared to liſten to his Diſcourſe; which by the Agitation, which appeared in Looks, ſhe imagined, would be upon ſome extraordinary Subject.

I left my Father juſt now, ſaid he, in a great deal of Uneaſineſs, on account of ſome⯑thing you ſaid to him, Lady Bella: He ap⯑prehends you are diſobliged, and he would willingly know how.

Has your Father then acquainted you with the Subject of our Converſation? interrupted Arabella.

I know what would have been the Subject of your Converſation, replied Mr. Glanville, if you had been pleaſed to liſten to what Sir Charles intended to ſay to you on my Be⯑half.

On your Behalf? interrupted Arabella: Ah poor deceived Glanville! how I pity thy blind Sincerity! But it is not for me to undeceive thee: Only thus much I muſt ſay to you, Beware of committing your Intereſts to a Perſon, who will be a much better Advocate for another than for you.

Mr. Glanville, rejoiced to find by theſe Words, that her Reſentment againſt his Fa⯑ther was occaſioned by a Suſpicion ſo favour⯑able for him, aſſured her, that Sir Charles wiſhed for nothing more earneſtly, than that he might be able to merit her Eſteem; and that it was to diſpoſe her to liſten to his Addreſſes, that he wanted to diſcourſe with her that Morn⯑ing.

[39] Mr. Glanville, being obliged, through his Knowlege of his Couſin's Temper, to ſpeak to her in this diſtant Manner, went on with his Aſſurances of his Father's Candour in this Reſpect; and Arabella, who would not de⯑clare her Reaſons for doubting it, only replied, That ſhe wiſhed Sir Charles meant all that he had ſaid to him; but that ſhe could not per⯑ſuade herſelf to believe him ſincere, till his fu⯑ture Actions had convinced her he was ſo.

Mr. Glanville, impatient to let his Father know, how greatly he had been miſtaken in the Cauſe of Arabella's Behaviour, made his Viſit ſhorter than he would otherwiſe have done, in order to undeceive him.

It is poſſible, ſaid Sir Charles, when his Son had repeated the Converſation he had juſt had with Arabella, that ſhe could be ſo fooliſh, as to imagine, I had a Deſign to propoſe any one elſe to her but you? What Reaſon have I ever given her, to think I would not be glad to have her for my Daughter-in-law? Indeed, ſhe has ſome odd Ways that are very diſagree⯑able; but ſhe is one of the beſt Matches in England for all that: Poor Girl! purſued he, ſhe had Reaſon to be angry, if that was the Caſe; and now I remember, ſhe cried, when I told her I would leave the Houſe; yet her Spirit was ſo great, that ſhe told me, I might go. Well, I'll go and make it up with her; but who could have imagined, ſhe would have been ſo fooliſh? Sir Charles, at the Repetition of theſe Words, hurried away to Arabella's Apartment.

[40] Niece, ſaid he at his Entrance, I am come to aſk you Pardon, for having led you into a Belief, that I meant—

'Tis enough, Sir, interrupted Arabella; I grant you my Pardon for what is paſt; and as it does not become me to receive Submiſſions from my Uncle, while he remembers he is ſo, I will diſ⯑penſe with your Acknowlegements at preſent: Only to convince me, that this ſudden Altera⯑tion is ſincere, avoid, I beſeech you, for the fu⯑ture, all Occaſions of diſpleaſing me.

I proteſt, cried Sir Charles, that I never in⯑tended—

I will not hear you ſay a Word more of your paſt Intentions, interrupted Arabella again: I have forgot them all; and, while you con⯑tinue to regard me as your Niece, I will ne⯑ver remember them to your Diſadvantage.

Then I may hope, ſaid Sir Charles—

Oh! Heavens! cried Arabella, not ſuffering him to proceed; do you come to inſult me thus, with a mock Repentance? And has my Eaſineſs, in being ſo ready to forget the In⯑jury you would have done me, made you pre⯑ſumptuous enough to cheriſh an inſolent Hope that I will ever change my Reſolution?

How vexatious is this! replied Sir Charles, fretting to ſee her continually miſtaking him. I ſwear to you, by all that is ſacred, that 'tis my Son, for whom I would ſolicit your Con⯑ſent.

How! ſaid Arabella, aſtoniſhed, Will you then be juſt at laſt? And can you reſolve to plead for that Son, whoſe Intereſt, but a Mo⯑ment ago, you would have deſtroyed?

[41] I ſee, ſaid Sir Charles, it is impoſſible to convince you.

No, no interrupted Arabella, haſtily; it is not impoſſible but my own ardent Wiſhes that it may be ſo, will help to convince me of the Truth of what you ſay: For in fine, do you think, I ſhall not be as glad as yourſelf, to find you capable of acting honourably by your Son; and to ſee myſelf no longer the Cauſe of the moſt unjuſtifiable Conduct imaginable?

Sir Charles was opening his Mouth, to preſs her in Favour of Mr. Glanville; whom, not⯑withſtanding her ſtrange Behaviour, he was glad to find, ſhe loved; when Arabella pre⯑venting him,

Seek not, I beſeech you, ſaid ſhe, to de⯑ſtroy that Belief I am willing to give your Words, by any more Attempts at this time to perſuade me; for truly, I ſhall interpret your Solicitude no way in your Favour; there⯑fore, if you deſire I ſhould be convinced you are ſincere, let the Silence I require of you, be one Proof of it.

Sir Charles, who looked exceſſively out of Countenance at ſuch a peremptory Command from his Niece, was going out of her Cham⯑ber in a very ill Humour, when the Dinner⯑bell ringing, ſhe gave him her Hand, with a very gracions Air; and permitted him to lead her into the Dining-room, where they found Mr. Glanville, his Siſter, and Sir George, who had been detained to Dinner by Miſs Glan⯑ville, expecting their coming.

CHAP. VI.

LADY Bella having recovered her uſual Chearfulneſs, thro' the Satisfaction ſhe felt at her Uncle's returning to Reaſon, and the Abatement ſhe perceived in Sir George's extreme Melancholy, mixed in the Converſa⯑tion with that Wit and Vivacity which was natural to her, and which ſo abſolutely charmed the whole Company, that not one of them re⯑membred any of her former Extravagancies.

Mr. Glanville gazed on her with a paſſionate Tenderneſs, Sir George with Admiration, and the old Baronet with Wonder and Delight.

But Miſs Glanville, who was inwardly vexed at the Superiority her Couſin's Wit gave her over herſelf, wiſhed for nothing more than an Opportunity of interrupting a Converſation in which ſhe could have no Share; and, willing to put them in mind of ſome of Arabella's ſtrange Notions, when ſhe obſerved them diſputing concerning ſome of the Actions of the antient Romans, ſhe very innocently aſked Sir George, Whether in former times Women went to the Wars, and fought like Men? For my Couſin, added ſhe, talks of one Thaltris, a Woman, that was as courageous as any Soldier whatever.

[43] Mr. Glanville, horridly vexed at a Queſtion that was likely to engage Arabella in a Diſcourſe very different from that ſhe had been ſo capa⯑ble of pleaſing in, frowned very intelligibly at his Siſter; and, to prevent any Anſwer being given to her abſurd Demand, directed ſome other Converſation to Arabella: But ſhe, who ſaw a favourite Subject ſtarted, took no Notice of what Mr. Glanville was ſaying to her; but, directing her Looks to Sir George,

Though Miſs Glanville, ſaid ſhe, be a little miſtaken in the Name of that fair Queen ſhe has mentioned; yet I am perſuaded you know whom ſhe means; and that it is the renowned Thaleſtris, whoſe Valour ſtaggers her Belief, and of whom ſhe wants to be informed.

Ay, ay, Thaleſtris, ſaid Miſs Glanville: It is ſuch a ſtrange Name I could not remember it; but, pray, was there ever ſuch a Perſon?

Certainly, Madam, there was, replied Sir George: She was Queen of the Amazons, a war⯑like Nation of Women, who poſſeſſed great Part of Cappadocia, and extended their Con⯑queſts ſo far, that they became formidable to all their Neighbours.

You find, Miſs, ſaid Arabella, I did not at⯑tempt to impoſe upon you, when I told you of the admirable Valour of that beautiful Queen; which indeed was ſo great, that the united Princes, in whoſe Cauſe ſhe fought, looked upon her Aſſiſtance to be equal to that of a whole Army; and they honoured her, accordingly, with the moſt diſtinguiſhing Marks of their Eſteem and Acknowlegement, and offered her the chief Command of their Forces.

[44] O ſhameful! cried Sir Charles, offer a Woman the Command of an Army! Brave Fellows indeed, that would be commanded by a Woman! Sure your miſtake, Niece; there never was ſuch a thing heard of in the World.

What, Sir, ſaid Arabella, will you contradict a Fact atteſted by the greateſt Hiſtorians that ever were? You may as well pretend to ſay, there never were ſuch Perſons as Oroondates or Juba, as diſpute the Exiſtence of the famous Thaleſtris.

Why, pray, Madam, ſaid Sir Charles, who were thoſe?

One of them, replied Arabella, was the great King of Scythia; and the other, Prince of the Two Mauritanias.

Ods-heart! interrupted Sir Charles, I believe their Kingdoms are in the Moon: I never heard of Scythia, or the Two Mauritanias, before.

And yet, Sir, replied Arabella, thoſe King⯑doms are doubtleſs as well known, as France or England; and there is no Queſtion, but the Deſcendants of the great Oroondates, and the valiant Juba, ſway the Sceptres of them to this Day.

I muſt confeſs, ſaid Sir George, I have a very great Admiration for thoſe Two renowned Princes, and have read their beautiful Exploits with infinite Pleaſure; notwithſtanding which, I am more inclined to eſteem the great Arta⯑ban, then either of them.

Though Artaban, replied Arabella, is without Queſtion, a Warrior equal to either of them, and haply no Perſon in the World poſſeſſed ſo ſublime a Courage as his was; yet, it may be, [45] your Partiality proceeds from another Cauſe; and you having the Honour to reſemble him in ſome little Infidelities he was accuſed of, with leſs Juſtice than yourſelf perhaps, induces you to favour him more than any other.

Arabella bluſhed when ſhe ended theſe Words: And Sir George replied, with a Sigh;

I have, indeed, the Honour, Madam, to re⯑ſemble the great Artaban, in having dared to raiſe my Thoughts towards a Divine Perſon, who, with Reaſon, condemns my Adorations.

Hey-day! cried Sir Charles, are you going to ſpeak of Divine Things, after all the Fables you have been talking of? Troth, I love to hear young Men enter upon ſuch Subjects: But pray, Niece, who told you Sir George was an Infidel?

Mr. Glanville, replied Arabella: And I am inclined to think he ſpoke Truth; for Sir George has never pretended to deny it.

How! interrupted Sir Charles; I am ſorry to hear that. I hope you have never, added he, looking at the young Baronet, endea⯑voured to corrupt my Son with any of your Free-thinking Principles: I am for every body having Liberty of Conſcience; but I cannot endure to hear People of your Stamp endeavouring to propagate your miſchievous Notions; and becauſe you have no Regard for your own future Happineſs, diſturbing other People in the laudable Purſuit of theirs.

We will not abſolutely condemn Sir George, ſaid Arabella, till we have heard his Hiſtory from his own Mouth, which he promiſed, ſome time ago, to relate when I deſired it.

[46] I do not imagine his Hiſtory is fit to be heard by Ladies, ſaid Sir Charles; for your Infidels live a ſtrange kind of Life.

However that may be, replied Arabella, we muſt not diſpenſe with Sir George from per⯑forming his Promiſe: I dare ſay there are no Ladies here, who will think the worſe of him for freely confeſſing his Faults.

You may anſwer for yourſelf, if you pleaſe, Madam, ſaid Sir Charles; but I hope my Girl there, will not ſay as much.

I dare ſay my Couſin is not ſo rigid, ſaid Arabella: She has too much the Spirit of Ju⯑lia in her, to find Fault with a little Infidelity.

I am always obliged to you for your Com⯑pariſons, Couſin, ſaid Miſs Glanville: I ſup⯑poſe this is greatly to my Advantage too.

I aſſure you, Madam, ſaid Sir George, Lady Bella has done you no Injury by the Compari⯑ſon ſhe has juſt now made; for Julia was one of the fineſt Princeſſes in the World.

Yet ſhe was not free from the Suſpicion of Infidelity, replied Arabella; but though I do not pretend to tax my Couſin with that Fault, yet it is with a great deal of Reaſon that I ſay ſhe reſembles her in her volatile Humour.

I was never thought to be ill-humoured in my Life, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville, co⯑louring; and I cannot imagine what Reaſon I have given you for ſaying I am.

Nay, Couſin, ſaid Arabella, I am not con⯑demning your Humour; for, to ſay the Truth, there are a great many Charms in a volatile Diſpoſition; and, notwithſtanding the admirable Beauty of Julia, it is poſſible ſhe made as [47] many Slaves by her light and airy Carriage, as ſhe did by her Eyes, though they were the faireſt in the World, except the divine Cleo⯑patra's.

Cleopatra! cried Sir Charles: Why ſhe was a Gypſey, was ſhe not?

I never heard her called ſo, ſaid Arabella, gravely; and I am apt to believe you are not at all acquainted with her: But pray, purſued ſhe, let us wave this Diſcourſe at preſent, and pre⯑pare to liſten to Sir George's Relation of his Life; which, I dare ſay, is full of very extra⯑ordinary Events: However, Sir, added ſhe, di⯑recting her Speech to the young Baronet, I am afraid your Modeſty will induce you to ſpeak with leſs Candour than you ought, of thoſe great Actions, which queſtionleſs you have per⯑formed: Therefore we ſhall hear your Hiſtory, with greater Satisfaction, from the Mouth of your faithful 'Squire, who will not have the ſame Reaſons that you have, for ſuppreſſing what is moſt admirable in the Adventures of your Life.

Since it is your Pleaſure, Madam, replied Sir George, to hear my Adventures, I will re⯑count them as well as I am able my ſelf, to the end that I may have an Opportunity of obliging you by doing ſome Violence to my na⯑tural Modeſty, which will not ſuffer me to re⯑late Things the World have been pleaſed to ſpeak of to my Advantage, without ſome little Confuſion.

Then, caſting down his Eyes, he ſeemed to be recollecting the moſt material Paſſages in his Life. Mr. Glanville, though he could have [48] wiſhed he had not indulged Arabella in her ridi⯑culous Requeſt, was not able to deny himſelf the Diverſion of hearing what Kind of Hiſtory he would invent; and therefore reſolved to ſtay and liſten to him.

Miſs Glanville was alſo highly delighted with the Propoſal; but Sir Charles, who could not conceive there could be any thing worth liſtening to, in a young Rake's Account of himſelf, got up with an Intention to walk in the Garden; when, perceiving it rained, he changed his Reſolution, and, reſuming his Seat, prepared to liſten, as every one elſe did, to the expected Story.

When Sir George, after having pauſed a Quarter of an Hour longer, during which all the Company obſerved a profound Silence, be⯑gan his Relation in this Manner, addreſſing himſelf to Arabella.

CHAP. I.

THOUGH at preſent, Madam, you behold me in the Quality of a private Gentleman, in the Poſſeſ⯑ſion only of a tolerable Eſtate; yet my Birth is illuſtrious enough: My Anceſtors having formerly worn a Crown▪ which, as they won by their Valour, ſo they loſt by their Misfortune only.

[50] How, interrupted Sir Charles, are you de⯑ſcended from Kings? Why, I never heard you ſay ſo before: Pray, Sir, how far are you re⯑moved from Royal Blood? and which of your Forefathers was it that wore a Crown?

Sir, replied Sir George, it is not much more than Eight hundred Years ſince my Anceſtors, who were Saxons, ſwayed the Sceptre of Kent; and from the firſt Monarch of that mighty Kingdom, am I lineally deſcended.

Pray where may that Kingdom of Kent lie? ſaid Sir Charles.

In—replied Sir George.

A mighty Kingdom indeed! ſaid Sir Charles: Why, it makes but a very ſmall Part of the King⯑dom of Britain now: Well, if your An⯑ceſtors were Kings of that County as it is now called, it muſt be confeſſed their Dominions were very ſmall.

However that may be, ſaid Arabella, it raiſes Sir George greatly in my Eſteem, to hear he is deſcended from Kings; for, truly, a Royal Ex⯑traction does infinitely ſet off noble and valiant Actions, and inſpires only lofty and generous Sentiments: Therefore, illuſtrious Prince (for in that Light I ſhall always conſider you), be aſſured, though Fortune has deſpoiled you of your Dominions, yet ſince ſhe cannot deprive you of your Courage and Virtue, Providence will one Day aſſiſt your noble Endeavours to recover your Rights, and place you upon the Throne of your Anceſtors, from whence you have been ſo inhumanly driven: Or, haply, to repair that Loſs, your Valour may procure you [51] other Kingdoms, no leſs conſiderable than that to which you was born.

For Heaven's ſake, Niece, ſaid Sir Charles, How come ſuch improbable Things into your Head? Is it ſuch an eaſy Matter, think you, to conquer Kingdoms, that you can flatter a young Man, who has neither Fleets nor Armies, with ſuch ſtrange Hopes?

The great Artaban, Sir, reſumed Arabella, had neither Fleets nor Armies, and was Maſter only of a ſingle Sword; yet he ſoon ſaw him⯑ſelf greater than any King, diſpoſing the De⯑ſtinies of Monarchs by his Will, and deciding the Fates of Empires by a ſingle Word: But pray let this Diſpute reſt where it is, and per⯑mit Sir George to continue his Relation.

It is not neceſſary, Madam, reſumed Sir George, to acquaint you with the Misfortunes of my Family, or relate the ſeveral Progreſ⯑ſions it made towards the private Condition in which it now is: For, beſides that reciting the Events of ſo many Hundred Years may haply, in ſome meaſure, try your Patience, I ſhould be glad if you would diſpenſe with me from entering into a Detail of Accidents that would ſenſibly afflict me: It ſhall ſuffice, therefore, to inform you, that my Father, being a peaceable Man, fond of Retirement and Tranquillity, made no Attempts to recover the Sovereignty from which his Anceſtors had been unjuſtly expelled; but quietly beheld the Kingdom of Kent in the Poſſeſſion of other Maſters, while he contented himſelf with the Improvement of that ſmall Pittance of Ground, which was all [52] that the unhappy Prince Veridomer, my Grand⯑father, was able to bequeath to him.

Hey-day! cried Sir Charles, Will you new⯑chriſten your Grandfather, when he has been in his Grave theſe Forty Years? I knew ho⯑neſt Sir Edmard Bellmour very well, though I was but a Youth when he died; but I be⯑lieve no Perſon in Kent ever gave him the Title of Prince Veridomer: Fie! fie! theſe are idle Brags.

Sir George, without taking Notice of the old Baronet's Heat, went on with his Narration in this manner:

Things were in this State, Madam, when I was born. I will not trouble you with the Relation of what I did in my Infancy.

No, pray ſkip over all that, interrupted Sir Charles; I ſuppoſe your Infancy was like other Peoples? What can there be worth hearing in that?

You are deceived, Sir, ſaid Arabella: The Infancy of illuſtrious Perſonages has always ſomething very extraordinary in it; and from their childiſh Words and Actions there have been often Preſages drawn of their future Greatneſs and Glory.

Not to diſoblige Sir Charles, however, ſaid the young Prince of Kent, I will not repeat many things, which I ſaid and did in the firſt Years of my Life, that thoſe about me thought very ſurpriſing; and from them prognoſti⯑cated, that very ſtrange Accidents would befal me.

I have been a Witneſs of ſome very unfa⯑vourable Prognoſtics of you, ſaid Sir Charles, [53] ſmiling; for you was the moſt unlucky bold Spark, that ever I knew in my Life.

'Tis very certain, purſued Sir George, that the Forwardneſs of my Spirit gave great Uneaſineſs to my Father; who, being, as I ſaid before, in⯑clinable to a peaceable and ſedentary Life, en⯑deavoured as much as poſſible to repreſs that Vivacity in my Diſpoſition, which he feared might involve me in dangerous Enterprizes. The Pains he took in my Education, I re⯑compenſed by a more than ordinary Docility: and, before I was Thirteen, performed all my Exerciſes with a marvelous Grace; and, if I may dare ſay ſo, was, at thoſe early Years, the Admiration and Wonder of all that ſaw me.

Lady Bella had ſome Reaſon to fear your Modeſty, I find, ſaid Sir Charles, ſmiling; for, methinks you really ſpeak too ſlightly of your Excellencies.

However that may be, reſumed Sir George; my Father ſaw theſe early Inſtances of a tower⯑ing Genius in me, with a Pleaſure, chaſtened by his Fears, that the Grandeur of my Courage would lead me to attempt ſomething for the Recovery of that Kingdom, which was my Due; and which might haply occaſion his loſing me.

Poſſeſſed with theſe Thoughts, he carefully avoided ſaying any thing to me concerning the glorious Pretences, to which my Birth gave me a Right; and often wiſhed it had been poſſible for him to conceal from me, that I was the true and lawful Heir of the Kingdom of Kent; a Circumſtance he never choſe to mention to [54] any Perſon, and would have been glad, if it had always remained a Secret.

And ſo it was a Secret, interrupted Sir Charles; for, till this Day, I never heard of it; and it might ſtill have been a Secret, if you had pleaſed; for nobody, I dare ſay, would ſuſpect ſuch a Thing; and very few, I believe, will be inclined to think there is any thing in ſuch an improbable Tale.

Notwithſtanding all my Father's Endeavours to the contrary, Madam, purſued Sir George, I cheriſhed thoſe towering Sentiments, the Knowledge of my Birth inſpired me with; and it was not without the utmoſt Impatience, that I brooked the private Condition, to which I found myſelf reduced.

Cruel Fate! would I ſometimes cry; was it not enough to deprive me of that Kingdom, which is my Due, and, ſubject me to a mean, and inglorious State; but, to make that Condi⯑tion infinitely more grievous, muſt thou give me a Soul, towering above my abject For⯑tune? A Soul, that cannot but diſdain the baſe Submiſſion, I muſt pay to thoſe, who triumph in the Spoils of my ruined Houſe? A Soul, which ſees nothing above its Hopes and Ex⯑pectations? And, in fine, a Soul, that excites me daily to attempt Things worthy of my Birth, and thoſe noble Sentiments I inherit from my great Forefathers? Ah! purſued I, unhappy Bellmour; what hinders thee from making thyſelf known and acknowleged for what thou art? What hinders thee from bold⯑ly aſſerting thy juſt and natural Rights; and [55] from defying the Uſurper, who detains them from thee? What hinders thee, I ſay?

What? Interrupted Sir Charles, why the Fear of a Halter, I ſuppoſe: There is nothing more eaſy than to anſwer that Queſtion.

Such, Madam, ſaid Sir George, were the Thoughts, which continually diſturbed my Imagination; and, doubtleſs, they had not fail⯑ed to puſh me on to ſome hazardous Enter⯑prize, had not a fatal Paſſion interpoſed; and by its ſweet, but dangerous Allurements, ſtifled for a while that Flame, which Ambi⯑tion, and the Love of Glory, kindled in my Soul.

Sir George here pauſing, and fixing his Eyes with a melancholy Air on the Ground, as if preſt with a tender Remembrance;

Mr. Glanville aſked him, ſimiling, If the Thoughts of poor Dolly diſturbed him? Pray, added he, give us the Hiſtory of your firſt Love, without any Mixture of Fable; or ſhall I take the Trouble off you? For you know, I am very well acquainted with your Affair with the pretty Milk-maid, and can tell it very ſuc⯑cinctly.

'Tis true, Sir, ſaid Sir George, ſighing, I cannot recall the Idea of Dorothea, into my Remembrance, without ſome Pain: That fair, but unfaithful Shepherdeſs, who firſt taught me to ſigh, and repaid my Tenderneſs with the blackeſt Infidelity: Yet I will endeavour to compoſe myſelf, and go on with my Narra⯑tion.

Be pleaſed to know then, Madam, purſued Sir George, that having my Thoughts, in this [56] manner, wholly employed with the Diſaſters of my Family, I had arrived to my ſeventeenth Year, without being ſenſible of the Power of Love; but the Moment now arrived, which was to prove fatal to my Liberty. Following the Chace one Day with my Father, and ſome other Gentlemen, I happened to lag a little be⯑hind them; and, being taken up with my ordi⯑nary Reflections, I loſt my Way, and wander⯑ed a long time, without knowing or conſider⯑ing whither I was going. Chance at laſt con⯑ducted me to a pleaſant Valley, ſurrounded with Trees; and, being tired with riding, I lighted, and tying my Horſe to a Tree, walked forward, with an Intention to repoſe myſelf a few Moments under the Shade of one of thoſe Trees, that had attracted my Obſervation: But while I was looking for the moſt convenient Place, I ſpied, at the Diſtance of ſome few Yards from me, a Woman lying aſleep upon the Graſs: Curioſity tempted me to go nearer this Perſon; and, advancing ſoftly, that I might not diſturb her, I got near enough to have a View of her Perſon: But, ah! Hea⯑vens! what Wonders did my Eyes encounter in this View!—The Age of this fair Sleeper ſeemed not to exceed Sixteen; her Shape was formed with the exacteſt Symmetry; one of her Hands ſupported her Head; the other, as it lay careleſly ſtretched at her Side, gave me an Opportunity of admiring its admirable Colour and Proportion: The thin Covering upon her Neck diſcovered Part of its inimitable Beauty to my Eyes; but her Face, her lovely Face, fixed all my Attention.

[57] Certain it is, Madam, that, out of this Com⯑pany, it would be hard to find any thing ſo perfect, as what I now viewed. Her Com⯑plexion was the pureſt White imaginable, heightened by the inchanting Glow, which dyed her fair Cheeks with a Colour like that of a new-blown Roſe: Her Lips, formed with the greateſt Perfection, and of a deeper Red, ſeemed to receive new Beauties from the Fra⯑grance of that Breath, that parted from them: Her auburn Hair fell in looſe Ringlets over her Neck; and ſome ſtraggling Curls, that played upon her fair Forehead, ſet off by a charming Contraſt the Whitneſs of that Skin it partly hid: Her Eyes indeed were cloſed; and though I knew not whether their Colour and Beauty were equal to thoſe other Miracles in her Face, yet their Proportion ſeemed to be large; and the ſnowy Lids, which covered them, were admirably ſet off by thoſe long and fable Laſhes that adorned them.

For ſome Moments I gazed upon this love⯑ly Sleeper, wholly loſt in Wonder and Admira⯑tion.

Where, whiſpered I, where has this Miracle been concealed, that my Eyes were never bleſ⯑ſed with the Sight of her before? Theſe Words, though I uttered them ſoftly, and with the utmoſt Caution; yet by the murmuring Noiſe they made, cauſed an Emotion in the beauteous Sleeper, that ſhe ſtarted, and preſently after opened her Eyes: But what Words ſhall I find to expreſs the Wonder, the Aſtoniſhment, and Rapture, which the Sight of thoſe bright Stars inſpired me with? The Flames which darted [58] from thoſe glorious Orbs, caſt ſuch a dazling Splendor upon a Sight too weak to bear a Radiance ſo unuſual, that, ſtepping back a few Paces, I contemplated at a Diſtance, that Brightneſs, which began already to kindle a conſuming Fire in my Soul.

Bleſs me! interrupted Sir Charles, con⯑founded at ſo pompous a Deſcription; who could this be?

The pretty Milk-maid, Dolly Acorn, replied Mr. Glanville gravely: Did you never ſee her, Sir, when you was at your Seat, at—? She uſed often to bring Cream to my Lady.

Aye, aye, replied Sir Charles, I remember her: She was a very pretty Girl: And ſo it was from her Eyes, that all thoſe Splendors and Flames came, that had like to have burnt you up, Sir George: Well, well, I gueſs how the Story will end: Pray let us hear it out.

I have already told you, Madam, reſumed Sir George, the marvelous Effects the Sight of thoſe bright Eyes produced upon my Spirit: I remained fixed in a Poſture of Aſtoniſhment and Delight; and all the Faculties of my Soul were ſo abſorbed in the Contemplation of the Miracles before me, that I believe, had ſhe ſtill continued before my Eyes, I ſhould never have moved from the Place where I then ſtood: But the fair Virgin, who had ſpied me at the ſmall Diſtance to which I was retired, turned haſtily about, and flew away with extraordi⯑nary Swiftneſs.

When Love, now lending me Wings, whom Admiration had before made motionleſs, I per⯑ſued her ſo eagerly, that at laſt I overtook her; [59] and, throwing myſelf upon my Knees before her,

Stay, I conjure you, cried I; and if you be a Divinity, as your celeſtial Beauty makes me believe, do not refuſe the Adoration I offer you: But if, as I moſt ardently wiſh, you are a Mortal, though ſure the faireſt that ever graced the Earth; ſtop a Moment, to look up⯑on a Man, whoſe Reſpects for you as a Mor⯑tal fall little ſhort of thoſe Adorations he of⯑fers you as a Goddeſs.

I can't but think, cried Sir Charles, laughing, how poor Dolly muſt be ſurpriſed at ſuch a rho⯑domontade Speech!

Oh, Sir! replied Mr. Glanville, you will find ſhe will make as good a one.

Will ſhe, by my Troth, ſaid Sir Charles. I don't know how to believe it.

This Action, purſued Sir George, and the Words I uttered, a little ſurpriſed that fair Maid, and brought a Bluſh into her lovely Cheeks; but, recovering herſelf, ſhe replied with an admirable Grace,

I am no Divinity, ſaid ſhe; and therefore your Adorations are miſplaced: But if, as you ſay, my Countenance moves you to any Re⯑ſpect for me, give me a Proof of it, by not endeavouring to hold any further Diſcourſe with me, which is not permitted me from one of your Sex and Appearance.

A very wiſe Anſwer, indeed! interrupted Sir Charles again: Very few Town Ladies would have diſclaimed the Title of Goddeſs, if their Lovers had thought proper to beſtow it [60] upon them. I am mightily pleaſed with the Girl for her Ingenuity.

The Diſcretion of ſo young a Damſel, re⯑ſumed Sir George, charmed me no leſs than her Beauty; and I beſought her, with the utmoſt Earneſtneſs, to permit me a longer Converſa⯑tion with her.

Fear not, lovely Virgin, ſaid I, to liſten to the Vows of a Man, who, till he ſaw you, never learnt to ſigh: My Heart, which de⯑fended its Liberty againſt the Charms of many admirable Ladies, yields, without Reluctance, to the pleaſing Violence your Beauties lay upon me. Yes, too charming and dangerous Stranger, I am no longer my own Maſter: It is in your Power to diſpoſe of my Deſtiny: Conſider therefore, I beſeech you, whether you can conſent to ſee me die? For I ſwear to you, by the moſt ſacred Oaths, unleſs you pro⯑miſe to have ſome Compaſſion on me, I will no longer behold the Light of Day.

You may eaſily conceive, Madam, that, con⯑ſidering this lovely Maid in the Character of a Shepherdeſs, in which ſhe appeared, I made her a Declaration of my Paſſion, without think⯑ing myſelf obliged to obſerve thoſe Reſpects, which, to a Perſon of equal Rank with myſelf, Decorum would not have permitted me to for⯑get.

However, ſhe repelled my Boldneſs with ſo charming a Modeſty, that I began to be⯑lieve, ſhe might be a Perſon of illuſtrious Birth, diſguiſed under the mean Habit ſhe wore: But, having requeſted her to inform me who ſhe was, ſhe told me, her Name was Dorothea; and that [61] ſhe was Daughter to a Farmer, that lived in the neighbouring Valley. This Knowlege in⯑creaſing my Confidence, I talked to her of my Paſſion, without being the leaſt afraid of of⯑fending her.

And therein you was greatly to blame, ſaid Arabella: For, truly, though the fair Dorothea told you, ſhe was Daughter to a Farmer; yet, in all Probability, ſhe was of a much higher Extraction, if the Picture you have drawn of her be true.

The fair Arſinoe, Princeſs of Armenia, was conſtrained for a while to conceal her true Name and Quality, and paſs for a ſimple Country-woman, under the Name of Delia: Yet the generous Philadelph, Prince of Cilicia, who ſaw and loved her under that Diſguiſe, treated her with all the Reſpect he would have done, had he known ſhe was the Daughter of a King. In like manner, Prince Philoxipes, who fell in Love with the beautiful Policrete, before he knew ſhe was the Daughter of the great Solon; and while he looked upon her as a poor Stranger, born of mean Parents; nevertheleſs, his Love ſupplying the Want of thoſe Advan⯑tages of Birth and Fortune, he wooed her with a Paſſion as full of Awe and Delicacy, as if her Extraction had been equal to his own. And therefore thoſe admirable Qualities the fair Dorothea poſſeſſed, might alſo have convinced you, ſhe was not what ſhe ſeemed, but, haply, ſome great Princeſs in Diſguiſe.

To tell you the Truth, Madam, replied Sir George, notwithſtanding the fair Dorothea in⯑formed me, ſhe was of a mean Deſcent, I could [62] not eaſily forego the Opinion, that ſhe was of an illuſtrious Birth: And the Hiſtories of thoſe fair Princeſſes you have mentioned, coming in⯑to my Mind, I alſo thought it very poſſible, that this divine Perſon might either be the Daughter of a great King, or Lawgiver, like them; but, being wholly engroſſed by the Vio⯑lence of my new-born Affection, I liſtened to nothing, but what moſt flattered my Hopes; and, addreſſing my lovely Shepherdeſs with all the Freedom of a Perſon who thinks his Birth much ſuperior to hers; ſhe liſtened to my Pro⯑teſtations, without any ſeeming Reluctance, and condeſcended to aſſure me before we part⯑ed, that ſhe did not hate me. So fair a Begin⯑ning, ſeemed to promiſe me the moſt favour⯑able Fortune I could with Reaſon expect. I parted from my fair Shepherdeſs with a thouſand Vows of Fidelity; exacting a Promiſe from her, that ſhe would meet me as often as ſhe conveniently could, and have the Goodneſs to liſten to thoſe Aſſurances of inviolable Tender⯑neſs my Paſſion prompted me to offer her. When ſhe left me, it ſeemed as if my Soul had forſaken my Body to go after her: My Eyes purſued her Steps as long as ſhe was in Sight; I envied the Ground ſhe preſt as ſhe went along, and the Breezes that kiſſed that celeſtial Countenance in their Flight.

For ſome Hours I ſtood in the ſame Poſture in which ſhe had left me; contemplating the ſudden Change I had experienced in my Heart, and the Beauty of that divine Image, which was now engraven in it. Night drawing on, I began to think of going home; and, untying my [63] Horſe, I returned the Way I had come; and at laſt ſtruck into a Road, which brought me to the Place where I parted from the Company; from whence I eaſily found my Way home, ſo changed both in my Looks and Carriage, that my Father, and all my Friends, obſerved the Alteration with ſome Surprize.

CHAP. II.

FOR ſome Months, continued Sir George, I proſecuted my Addreſſes to the admir⯑able Dorothea; and I flattered myſelf with a Hope, that I had made ſome Progreſs in her Heart: But, alas! this deceitful Fair-one, who only laughed at the Torments ſhe made me en⯑dure, at the time ſhe vowed eternal Conſtancy to me, gave her Hand to a Lover of her Fa⯑ther's providing, and abandoned me, without Remorſe, to the moſt cruel Deſpair.

I will not trouble you, Madam, with the Repetition of thoſe Complaints, which this perfidious Action drew from me for a long time. At length, my Courage enabling me to over⯑come the Violence of my Grief, I reſolved to think of the ungrateful Dorothea no more; and [64] the Sight of another Beauty completing my Cure, I no longer remembred the unfaithful Shepherdeſs, but with Indifference.

Thus, Madam, have I faithfully related one of thoſe Infidelities, wherewith my Enemies ſlander me; who can ſupport their Aſſertion, with no better Proof, than that I did not die, when Dorothea abandoned me: But I ſubmit it to your Candour, whether an unfaithful Miſtreſs deſerved ſuch an Inſtance of Affec⯑tion, from a Lover ſhe had betrayed?

Why, really, replied Arabella, after a little Pauſe, you had ſome Excuſe to plead for your Failure in this Point: And though you cannot be called, the moſt perfect amongſt Lovers, ſeeing you neither died, nor was in Danger of dying; yet neither ought you to be ranked among thoſe who are moſt culpable: But pray proceed in your Story: I ſhall be better able to form a right Judgment of your Merit as a Lo⯑ver, when I have heard all your Adventures.

My Paſſion for Dorothea, reſumed Sir George, being cured by her Treachery towards me, the Love of Glory began again to revive in my Soul. I panted after ſome Occaſion to ſigna⯑lize my Valour, which yet I had met with no Opportunity of doing; but, hearing that a mighty Army was preparing to march upon a ſecret Expedition, I privately quitted my Fa⯑ther's Seat; and, attended only by my faithful 'Squire, I took the ſame Route the Army had taken, and arrived the Day before the terrible Battle of—was fought, where, without making myſelf known, I performed ſuch Pro⯑digies of Valour, as aſtoniſhed all who beheld [65] me. Without doubt, I ſhould have been highly careſſed by the Commander, who certainly would have given me the Honour of a Victory my Sword alone had procured for him; but, having unwittingly engaged myſelf too far in Purſuit of the flying Enemy, I found myſelf alone, encompaſſed with a Party of about Five hundred Men; who, ſeeing they were purſued only by a ſingle Man, faced about, and pre⯑pared to kill or take me Priſoner.

Pray, Sir, interrupted Sir Charles, when did all this happen? And how came it to paſs, that your Friends have been ignorant to this Mo⯑ment of thoſe Prodigies of Valour you per⯑formed at that Battle? I never heard you was ever in a Battle: Fame has done you great In⯑juſtice, by concealing the Part you had in that famous Victory.

The great Care I took to conceal myſelf, replied Sir George, was one Reaſon why my Friends did not attribute to me the Exploits, which the Knight in black Armour, who was no other than myſelf, performed; and the Ac⯑cident I am going to relate, prevented my be⯑ing diſcovered, while the Memory of thoſe great Exploits were yet freſh in the Minds of thoſe I had ſo greatly obliged.

Be pleaſed to know, therefore, Madam, that, ſeeing myſelf about to be encompaſſed by this Party of the Enemy, I diſdained to fly; and, though I was alone, reſolved to ſuſtain their Attack, and ſell my Life as dear as poſſible.

Why, if you did ſo, you was a Madman, cried Sir Charles in a Heat: The braveſt Man that ever lived, would not have preſumed to [66] fight with ſo great a Number of Enemies. What could you expect, but to be cut in Pieces? Pooh! pooh! don't think any body will credit ſuch a ridiculous Tale: I never knew you was ſo addicted to—

Lying, perhaps, the good Knight would have ſaid; but Sir George, who was concerned he was preſent at his Legend, and could not blame him for doubting his Veracity, prevent⯑ed his Utterance of a Word he would be oblig⯑ed to take ill, by abruptly going on with his Story.

Placing my Back therefore againſt a Tree, purſued he, to prevent my being aſſaulted be⯑hind, I preſented my Shield to the Boldeſt of theſe Aſſailants; who, having ſtruck an impo⯑tent Blow upon it, as he was lifting up his Arm to renew his Attack, I cut it off with one Stroke of my Sword; and the ſame Inſtant plunged it to the Hilt in the Breaſt of another, and clove the Scull of a Third, who was mak⯑ing at me, in two Parts.

Sir Charles, at this Relation, burſt into a loud Fit of Laughter; and, being more inclined to divert himſelf, than be offended at the Folly and Vanity of the young Baronet, he permitted him to go on with his ſurpriſing Story, with⯑out giving him any other Interruption.

Theſe Three Executions, Madam, purſued Sir George, were the Effects only of ſo many Blows; which raiſed ſuch Indignation in my Enemies, that they preſt forward in great Num⯑bers to deſtroy me; but, having, as I before ſaid, poſted myſelf ſo advantageouſly, that I could only be aſſaulted before, not more than [67] Three or Four could attack me at one time. The Deſire of lengthening out my Life, till happily ſome Succour might come to my Relief, ſo in⯑vigorated my Arm, and added to my ordinary Strength an almoſt irreſiſtible Force, that I dealt Death at every Blow; and in leſs than a quar⯑ter of an Hour, ſaw more than Fifty of my Enemies at my Feet, whoſe Bodies ſerved for a Bulwark againſt their Fellows Swords.

The Commander of this little Body, not having Generoſity enough to be moved with thoſe prodigious Effects of my Valour in my Favour, was tranſported with Rage at my Re⯑ſiſtance; and the Sight of ſo many of his Men ſlain before his Face, ſerved only to increaſe his Fury; and that Moment, ſeeing, that, with Two more Blows, I had ſent Two of his moſt valiant Soldiers to the Shades, and that the reſt fearing to come within the Length of my Sword, had given me a few Moments Re⯑ſpite,

Ah! Cowards! cried he, are you afraid of a ſingle Man? And will you ſuffer him to eſcape from your Vengeance, who has ſlain ſo many of your brave Comrades before your Eyes?

Theſe Words inſpiring them with a Fierce⯑neſs, ſuch as he deſired, they advanced towards me with more Fury than before: By this time, I had received ſeveral large Wounds, and my Blood ran down from many Parts of my Body: Yet was I not ſenſible of any Decay of Strength, nor did the ſettled Deſigns of my Enemies to deſtroy me daunt me in the leaſt: I ſtill relied upon the Aſſiſtance I expected Providence [68] would ſend to my Relief, and determined, if poſſible, to preſerve my Life, till it arrived.

I fought, therefore, with a Reſolution, which aſtoniſhed my Enemies, but did not move them to any Regard for my Safety: And, obſerving their brutal Commander, a few Paces from me, encouraging his Men, both with his Cries and Geſtures, Indignation againſt this inhuman Wretch ſo tranſported me out of my Diſcre⯑tion, that I quitted my Poſt, in order to ſacri⯑fice him to my Revenge.

Seeing me advance furiouſly towards him, he turned pale with Fear, and endeavoured to ſhel⯑ter himſelf in the midſt of his Men; who, more valiant than himſelf, oppoſed themſelves to my Rage, to favour his Retreat: But quickly clear⯑ing myſelf a Way with my Sword, I preſſed to⯑wards the barbarous Coward; and, ere he could avoid the Blow I aimed at him, it ſtruck him ſenſeleſs at my Feet.

My particular Revenge thus ſatisfied, I was ſenſible of the Fault I had committed in quit⯑ting my Poſt, by which I expoſed myſelf to be ſurrounded by the Enemy. I endeavoured to regain it, but in vain: I was beſet on all Sides, and now deſpaired of any Safety; and there⯑fore only fought to die courageouſly, and make as many of my Enemies as I could, attend my Fall.

Exaſperated by the Misfortune of their Com⯑mander, they preſſed upon me with redoubled Fury. Faint as I was, with the Loſs of Blood, and ſo fatigued with the paſt Action, and the obſtinate Fight I had maintained ſo long with ſuch a conſiderable Number, I could hardly any [69] longer lift up my Arm; and, to complete, my Misfortune, having thruſt my Sword into the Body of one of the forwardeſt of my Enemies, in my endeavouring to regain it, it broke in Pieces, and the Hilt only remained in my Hand.

This Accident completed my Defeat: De⯑prived of my Sword, I was no longer capable of making any Defence: Several of them preſſed upon me at once; and, throwing me down, tied my Hands together behind me. Shame and Rage at this Indignity worked ſo forcibly up⯑on my Spirts, weakened as I then was, that I fell into a Swoon. What happened till my Re⯑covery, I am not able to tell; but, at the Re⯑turn of my Senſes, I found myſelf laid on a Bed in a tolerable Chamber, and ſome Perſons with me, who kept a profound Silence.

CHAP. III.

RECOLLECTING in a few Moments all that happened to me, I could not chooſe but be ſurpriſed at finding myſelf treated with ſo little Severity, conſidering I was Priſoner to Perſons who had been Wit⯑neſſes of the great Quantity of Blood I had ſhed in my own Defence. My Wounds had been dreſſed while I continued in my Swoon; and the Faces of thoſe Perſons who were about me, expreſſed nothing of Unkindneſs.

[70] After reflecting ſome time longer on my Situation, I called to a young Man, who ſat near my Bed-ſide, and intreated him to inform me, Where I was, and to whom I was a Pri⯑ſoner? But could get no other Anſwer to thoſe Queſtions, than a moſt civil Intreaty to com⯑poſe myſelf, and not protract the Cure of my Wounds by talking, which, the Surgeons had declared, would be of a bad Conſequence; and had therefore ordered me to be as little diſturbed as poſſible.

Notwithſtanding this Remonſtrance, I re⯑peated my Requeſt, promiſing to be entirely governed by them for the future in what re⯑garded my Health, provided they would ſatisfy me in thoſe Particulars: But my Attendant did not ſo much as reply to thoſe Importunities; but, to prevent the Continuance of them, roſe from his Seat, and retired to the other End of the Chamber.

I paſſed that Day, and ſeveral others, with⯑out being able to learn the Truth of my Condi⯑tion: All this time, I was diligently waited on by the two Perſons I had firſt ſeen, neither of whom I could prevail upon to inform me of what I deſired to know; and, judging, by this obſtinate Reſerve, and the Manner of my Treatment, that there was ſome Myſtery in the Caſe, I forbore to aſk them any more Queſtions, conceiving they had particular Or⯑ders not to anſwer them.

The Care that was taken to forward my Cure, in Three Weeks entirely reſtored me to Health: I longed impatiently to know, what was to be my Deſtiny; and buſied myſelf [71] in conjecturing it, in vain; when, one Morning, an elderly Lady entered my Chamber, at whoſe Appearance my Two Attendants retired.

After ſhe had ſaluted me very civilly, and inquired after my Health, ſhe ſeated herſelf in a Chair near my Bedſide, and ſpoke to me in this manner:

I make no queſtion, Sir, but you are ſur⯑priſed at the Manner in which you have been treated, and the Care there has been taken to prevent diſcovering to you the Place where you now are; but you will doubtleſs be more ſurpriſed, to hear you are in the Fortreſs of—, and in the Houſe of Prince Marcomire, whoſe Party you fought againſt alone; and whom you ſo dangerouſly wounded, before you was taken Priſoner by his Men.

Is it poſſible, Madam, ſaid I, who, from the firſt Moment of her Appearance, had been in a ſtrange Perplexity, is it poſſible, I am in the Houſe of a Man, whoſe Life I endeavoured ſo eagerly to deſtroy? And is it to him, who oppreſſed me ſo baſely with Numbers, that I am obliged for the Succour I have received?

It is not to him, replied the Lady, that you are obliged for the favourable Treatment you have had; but liſten to me patiently, and I will diſcloſe the Truth of your Adventure.

Prince Marcomire, who was the Perſon that headed that Party againſt which you ſo valiant⯑ly defended yourſelf, after the Loſs of the Battle, was haſtening to throw himſelf into this Place, where his Siſter, and many Ladies of Quality, had come for Security: Your in⯑diſcreet [72] Purſuit engaged you in the moſt un⯑equal Combat that ever was fought; and—

Nay, Sir, interrupted Arabella, though I do not refuſe to give you all the Praiſes your gal⯑lant Defence of yourſelf againſt Five hundred Men deſerves; yet I cannot agree with that Lady, in ſaying, it was the moſt unequal Com⯑bat that ever was fought: For, do but reflect, I beſeech you, upon that which the brave Prince of Mauritania ſuſtained againſt twice that Num⯑ber of Men, with no other Arms than his Sword; and, you having been in Battle that Day, was, as I conceive, completely armed. The young Prince of Egypt, accompanied only by the valiant, but indiſcreet, Cepio his Friend, engaged all the King of Armenia's Guards, and put them all to Flight. The courageous Ariobaſanes ſcorned to turn his Back upon a whole Army; not to mention the invincible Artaban, whom a thouſand Armies together could not have made to turn.

Be pleaſed to obſerve, Madam, ſaid Sir George, that to the end I may faithfully recount my Hiſtory, I am under a Neceſſity of repeating Things, which, haply, may ſeem too advan⯑tageous for a Man to ſay of himſelf: Therefore I indeed greatly approve of the Cuſtom, which, no doubt, this Inconveniency introduced, of a 'Squire, who is thoroughly inſtructed with the Secrets of his Maſter's Heart, relating his Ad⯑ventures, and giving a proper Eulogium of his rare Valour, without being in Danger of of⯑fending the Modeſty of the renowned Knight; who, as you know, Madam, upon thoſe Oc⯑caſions, commodiouſly ſlips away.

[73] It being, however, this Lady's Opinion, that no Man ever undertook a more hazardous Com⯑bat, or with greater Odds, againſt him, ſhe did not fail to expreſs her Admiration of it, in very high Terms.

The Noiſe of this Accident, purſued ſhe, was ſoon ſpread over the whole Town; and the beautiful Sydimiris, Marcomire's Siſter, hear⯑ing that her Brother was wounded, as it was thought to Death, and that the Perſon who killed him, was taken Priſoner; ſhe flew out to meet her wounded Brother, diſtracted with Grief, and vowing to have the ſevereſt Tor⯑tures executed on him, who had thus barba⯑rouſly murdered her Brother. Thoſe who bore that unhappy Prince, having brought him into the Houſe, his Wounds were ſearched; and the Surgeons declared, they were very dan⯑gerous.

Sydimiris, hearing this, redoubled her Com⯑plaints and Vows of Vengeance againſt you: Her Brother having then the chief Authority in the Place, ſhe commanded, in his Name, to have you brought hither, and to be moſt ſtrictly guarded; determined, if her Brother died, to ſacrifice you to his Ghoſt.

Full of theſe ſanguinary Reſolutions, ſhe left his Chamber, having ſeen him laid in Bed; and his Wounds dreſſed; but paſſing along a Gallery to her own Apartment, ſhe met the Perſons who were bringing you to the Room that was to be your Priſon: You was not, pur⯑ſued the Lady, yet recovered from your Swoon, ſo that they carried you like one that was dead: They had taken off your Helmet to give you [74] Air; by which means your Face being quite uncovered, pale, languiſhing, and your Eyes cloſed, as if in Death, preſented the moſt moving, and, at the ſame time, moſt pleaſing Object in the World.

Sydimiris, who ſtopt, and for a Moment eagerly gazed upon you, loſt all of a ſudden the Fierceneſs, which before had animated her againſt you: And lifting up her Eyes to view thoſe Men that carried you;

Are you ſure, ſaid ſhe to them, that this is the Perſon who wounded my Brother?

Yes, Madam, replied one of them; this muſt be he, ſince there was no other in his Com⯑pany; and he alone ſuſtained the Attack of Five hundred Men; and would probably not have left one of them alive, had not his Sword, by breaking, put it into our Power to take him Priſoner.

Carry him away, ſaid Sydimiris; but let his Wounds be dreſſed, and let him be carefully looked to, that, if my Brother dies, he may be puniſhed as he deſerves.

Pronouncing theſe Words in a low and fal⯑tering Voice, ſhe turned her Eyes a ſecond time upon you; then, haſtily averting her Looks, ſhe hurried to her own Chamber, and threw herſelf into a Chair, with all the Marks of a very great Diſturbance.

The Affection I have for her, being the Per⯑ſon who had brought her up, and moſt favoured with her Confidence, made me behold her in this Condition with great Concern; and ſup⯑poſing it was her Brother that diſquieted her, I beſought her not to give way to the Violence [75] of her Grief, but to hope that Heaven would reſtore him to her Prayers.

Alas! my dear Urinoe, ſaid ſhe, I am more culpable than you can imagine; and I grieve leſs for the Condition to which I ſee Marcomire re⯑duced, than for that Moderation wherewith I am conſtrained, ſpite of myſelf, to behold his Enemy.

Yes, dear Urinoe, purſued ſhe, bluſhing, and caſting down her Eyes, the Actions of this Unknown appear to me in quite another Light, ſince I have ſeen him; and, inſtead of looking upon him as the Murderer of my Bro⯑ther, I cannot help admiring that rare Valour, with which he defended himſelf againſt ſo great a Number of Enemies; and am even ready to condemn the furious Marcomire, for oppreſſing ſo brave a Man.

As I had never approved of thoſe violent Tranſports of Grief and Rage, which ſhe had expreſſed upon the firſt News of her Brother's Misfortune; and as I looked upon your glo⯑rious Defence with the utmoſt Admiration; ſo, far from condemning the Change of her Thoughts, I confirmed her in the favourable Opinion ſhe began to entertain of you; and, continuing to make Remarks upon all the Par⯑ticulars of the Combat, which had come to our Knowlege, we found nothing in your Be⯑haviour, but what increaſed our Admiration.

Sydimiris therefore, following the Dictates of her own Generoſity, as well as my Advice, placed Two Perſons about you, whoſe Fide⯑lity we could rely on; and gave them Orders to treat you with all imaginable Care and Re⯑ſpect, [76] but not to inform you of the Place in which you was, or to whom you was Pri⯑ſoner.

In the mean time, Marcomire, whoſe Wounds had been again examined, was de⯑clared out of Danger by the Surgeons; and he having underſtood the Exceſs of his Siſter's Grief, and the Revenge ſhe had vowed againſt you, gave her Thanks for thoſe Expreſſions of her Tenderneſs; and alſo uttered ſome Threats, which intimated a violent Hatred againſt you; and a Deſign of proſecuting his Revenge upon you, as ſoon as he was in a Condition to leave his Chamber.

Sydimiris, who heard him, could with Dif⯑ficulty diſſemble her Concern.

Ah! Urinoe, ſaid ſhe to me, when we were alone; 'tis now, that I more than ever repent of that Exceſs of Rage, which tranſported me againſt the brave Unknown. I have thereby put him intirely into my Brother's Power, and ſhall be haply acceſſary to that Death he is meditating for him, or elſe a perpetual Impri⯑ſonment.

This Reflection gave her ſo much Pain, that I could not chooſe but pity her; and conſider⯑ing, that the only way to preſerve you, was for her to diſſemble a Rage equal to Mar⯑comire's againſt you, in order to prevent being ſuſpected of any Deſign in your Favour, I per⯑ſuaded her to join with him in every thing he ſaid; while, in the mean time, we would en⯑deavour to get you cured of your Wounds, that you might at leaſt be in a Condition once more [77] to defend yourſelf with that miraculous Valour Heaven has beſtowed on you.

Sydimiris perceiving her Brother would ſoon be in a Condition to execute his Threats, reſolv⯑ed to hazard every thing, rather than to expoſe you to his Rage: She therefore communicated to me her Deſign of giving you Liberty, and, by preſenting a ſufficient Reward to your Guard, inducing them to favour your Eſcape.

I undertook to manage this Buſineſs in her Name, and have done it ſo effectually, that you will this Night be at Liberty, and may depart the Town immediately, in which it will be dangerous to ſtay any time, for fear of being diſcovered.

Sydimiris forbad me to let you know the Perſon to whom you would be obliged for your Freedom; but I could not endure, that you ſhould unjuſtly involve the Siſter of Marcomire, in that Reſentment you will queſtionleſs always preſerve againſt him; and to keep you from being innocently guilty of Ingratitude, I reſolved to acquaint you with the Nature of thoſe Obliga⯑tions you owe to her.

CHAP. IV.

AH! Madam, ſaid I, perceiving ſhe had finiſhed her Diſcourſe, doubt not but I ſhall moſt gratefully preſerve the Remembrance of what the generous Sydimiris has done for me; [78] and ſhall always be ready to loſe that Life in her Defence, which ſhe has had the ſuperlative Goodneſs to take ſo much Care of. But, Ma⯑dam, purſued I, with an earneſt Look, do not, I beſeech you, refuſe me one Favour, without which I ſhall depart with inconceivable Sorrow.

Depend upon it, valiant Sir, replied ſhe, that if what you will require of me, be in my Power, and fit for me to grant, I ſhall very willingly oblige you.

It is then, reſumed I, trembling at the Bold⯑neſs of my Requeſt, that you would conde⯑ſcend to intreat the moſt generous Sydimiris to favour me with an Interview, and give me an Opportunity of throwing myſelf at her Feet, to thank her for all thoſe Favours I have re⯑ceived from her Compaſſion.

I cannot promiſe you, replied the Lady, riſing, to prevail upon Sydimiris to grant you an Audience; but I aſſure you, that I will endea⯑vour to diſpoſe her to do you this Favour; and it ſhall not be my Fault, if you are not ſa⯑tisfied.

Saying this, ſhe went out of my Chamber, I having followed her to the Door, with Pro⯑teſtations that I would never forget her Kindneſs upon this Occaſion.

I paſt the reſt of that Day in an anxious Im⯑patience for Night, divided between Fear and Hope, and more taken up with the Thoughts of ſeeing Sydimiris, than with my expected Liberty.

Night came at laſt, and the Door of my Apartment opening, I ſaw the Lady who had been with me in the Morning, enter.

[79] I have prevailed upon Sydimiris to ſee you, ſaid ſhe; and ſhe is willing, at my Intreaty, to grant that Favour to a Perſon, who, ſhe with Reaſon thinks, has been inhumanly treated by her Brother.

Then, giving me her Hand, ſhe conducted me along a large Gallery, to a ſtately Apart⯑ment; and after traverſing ſeveral Rooms, ſhe led me into one, where Sydimiris herſelf was: Who, as ſoon as ſhe perceived me, roſe from her Seat, and received me with great Civility.

In the Tranſport I then was, I know not how I returned the grateful Salute the incom⯑parable Sydimiris gave me; for moſt certain it is, that I was ſo loſt in Wonder, at the Sight of the many Charms I beheld in her Perſon, that I could not unlock my Tongue, or re⯑move my Eyes from her inchanting Face; but remained fixed in a Poſture, which at once ex⯑preſſed my Admiration and Delight.

To give you a Deſcription of that Beauty which I then contemplated, I muſt inform you, Madam, that Sydimiris is tall, of a hand⯑ſome Stature, and admirably proportioned; her Hair was of the fineſt Black in the World; her Complexion marvelouſly fair; and all the Li⯑neaments of her Viſage were perfectly beauti⯑ful; and her Eyes, which were large and black, ſparkled with ſo quick and piercing a Fire, that no Heart was able to reſiſt their powerful Glances: Moreover, Sydimiris is admirably ſhaped; her Port is high and noble; and her Air ſo free, yet ſo commanding, that there are few Perſons in the World, with whom ſhe may not diſpute the Priority of Beauty: In fine, [80] Madam, Sydimiris appeared with ſo many Ad⯑vantages, to a Spirit prepoſſeſſed already with the moſt grateful Senſe of her Favours, that I could not reſiſt the ſweet Violence wherewith her Charms took Poſſeſſion of my Heart: I yielded therefore, without Reluctance, to my Deſtiny, and reſigned myſelf, in an Inſtant, to thoſe Fetters, which the Sight of the Divine Sydimiris prepared for me: Recovering there⯑fore a little from that Admiration, which had ſo totally ingroſſed all my Faculties, I threw myſelf at her Feet, with an Action whol⯑ly compoſed of Tranſport.

Divine Sydimiris, ſaid I, beholding her with Eyes, in which the Letters of my new-born Paſſion might very plainly be read, ſee at your Feet a Man devoted to your Service, by all the Ties of Gratitude and Reſpect. I come, Madam, to declare to you, that from the Firſt Moment you gave me Liberty, I had devoted that and my Life to you; and at your Feet I confirm the Gift; proteſting by all that is moſt dear and ſacred to me, that ſince I hold my Life from the Divine Sydimiris, ſhe alone ſhall have the abſolute Diſpoſal of it for the future; and ſhuld ſhe pleaſe again to demand it, either to appeaſe her Brother's Fury, or to ſacrifice it to her own Security, I will moſt faithfully perform her Will, and ſhed the laſt Drop of that Blood at her Command, which I would with Tranſport loſe in her Defence.

A fine high-flown Speech indeed! ſaid Sir Charles, laughing; but I hope you did not in⯑tend to keep your Word.

[81] Sure, Sir, replied Arabella, you do not ima⯑gine, that Sir George would have failed in executing all he had promiſed to the beautiful and generous Sydimiris: What could he poſſi⯑bly have ſaid leſs? And indeed what leſs could ſhe have expected from a Man, whom at the Hazard of her own Life and Happineſs, ſhe had given Freedom to?

I accompanied theſe Words, Madam, pur⯑ſued Sir George, with ſo paſſionate a Look and Accent, that the fair Sydimiris bluſhed, and, for a Moment, caſt down her Eyes with a viſible Confuſion. At laſt,

Sir, replied ſhe, I am too well ſatisfied with what I have done, with reſpect to your Safety, to require any Proofs of your Gratitude, that might be dangerous to it; and ſhall remain ex⯑tremely well ſatisfied, if the Obligations you think you owe me, may induce you to mode⯑rate your Reſentment againſt my Brother, for the cruel Treatment you received from him.

Doubt not, Madam, interrupted I, eagerly, but I ſhall, in the Perſon of Marcomire, regard the Brother of the divine Sydimiris; and that Conſideration will be ſufficient, not only to make me forget all the Violences he committed againſt me, but even to deſend his Life, if need be, with the Hazard of my own.

Exceſſively generous indeed! ſaid Sir Charles: I never heard any thing like it.

Oh! dear, Sir, replied Arabella, there are numberleſs Inſtances of equal, and even ſupe⯑rior Generoſity, to be met with in the L [...]ves of the Heroes of Antiquity: You will there ſee a Lover, whoſe Miſtreſs has been taken from [82] him, either by Treachery or Force, venture his Life in Defence of the injurious Huſband who poſſeſſes her; and though all his Felicity depends upon his Death, yet he will reſcue him from it, at the Expence of the greater Part of his Blood.

Another, who after a long and bloody War, has, by taking his Enemy Priſoner, an Oppor⯑tunity of terminating it honourably; yet, thro' an heroick Principle of Generoſity, he gives his Captive Liberty, without making any Con⯑ditions, and has all his Work to do over again.

A Third, having contracted a violent Friend⯑ſhip with the Enemies of his Country, through the ſame generous Sentiments, draws his Sword in their Defence, and makes no Scruple to fight againſt an Army, where the King his Father is in Perſon.

I muſt confeſs, ſaid Sir Charles, that Gene⯑roſity ſeems to me very peculiar, that will make a Man fight for his Enemies againſt his own Father.

It is in that Peculiarity, Sir, ſaid Arabella, that his Generoſity conſiſts; for certainly there is nothing extraordinary in fighting for one's Father, and one's Country; but when a Man has arrived to ſuch a Pitch of Greatneſs of Soul, as to neglect thoſe mean and ſelfiſh Con⯑ſiderations, and, loving Virtue in the Perſons of his Enemies, can prefer their Glory before his own particular Intereſt, he is then a perfect Hero indeed: Such a one was Oroondates, Ar⯑taxcrxes, and many others I could name, who all gave eminent Proofs of their Diſintereſted⯑neſs and Greatneſs of Soul, upon the like Oc⯑caſions: [83] Therefore not, to detract from Sir George's Merit, I muſt ſtill inſiſt, that in the Reſolutions he had taken to defend his Ene⯑my's Life at the Expence of his own, he did no more, than what any Man of ordinary Ge⯑neroſity ought to do, and what he was particu⯑larly obliged to, by what the amiable Sydimiris had done for him.

I was ſo happy, however, Madam, continued Sir George, to find that thoſe Expreſſions of my Gratitude wrought ſomewhat upon the Heart of the lovely Sydimiris in my Favour: Her Words diſcovered as much, and her Eyes ſpoke yet more intelligibly; but our Converſation was interrupted by the diſcreet Urinoe, who, fearing the Conſequence of ſo long a Stay in her Cham⯑ber, repreſented to me, that it was time to take my Leave.

I turned pale at this cruel Sound; and, be⯑holding Sydimiris with a languiſhing Look,

Would to Heaven, Madam, ſaid I, that inſtead of giving me Liberty, you would keep me eternally your Priſoner; for though a Dun⯑geon was to be the Place of my Confinement, yet if it was near you, it would ſeem a Palace to me; for indeed I am no longer in a Condi⯑tion to reliſh that Freedom you beſtow upon me, ſince it muſt remove me farther from you: But I beſeech you, Madam, to believe, that in delivering me from your Brother's Fetters, you have caſt me into your own, and that I am more a Priſoner than ever, but a Priſoner to ſo lovely a Conqueror, that I do not wiſh to break my Chains, and prefer the ſweet and glorious Cap⯑tivity [84] I am in, to all the Crowns in the World.

You are very bold, ſaid Sydimiris, bluſhing, to entertain me with ſuch Diſcourſe; yet I pardon this Offence, in Conſideration of what you have ſuffered from my Brother, and on Condition that you will depart immediately, without ſpeaking another Word.

Sydimiris ſpoke this ſo earneſtly, that I durſt not diſobey her; and, kiſſing the Hem of her Robe, with a paſſionate Air, I left ber Cham⯑ber, conducted by Urinoe; who having brought me to a private Door, which carried us into the Street, I there found a Man waiting for me, whom I knew to be the ſame that had attended me during my Stay in that Houſe.

Urinoe having recommended to him to ſee me ſafe out of the Town, I took Leave of her, with the moſt grateful Acknowlegements for her Kindneſs; and followed my Conductor, ſo oppreſſed with Grief at the Thoughts of leaving the Place where Sydimiris was, that I had hardly Strength to walk.

CHAP. V.

THE farther I went, continued Sir George, the more my Regret increaſed; and, finding it would be impoſſible to live, and quit [85] the Divine Sydimiris, I all at once took a Re⯑ſolution to remain in the Town concealed; and, communicating my Deſign to my Guide, I en⯑gaged him to aſſiſt me in it, by a Preſent of a conſiderable Sum, which he could not reſiſt: Accordingly he left me in a remote Part of the Town, and went to find out a convenient Lodg⯑ing for me; which he ſoon procured, and alſo a Suit of Cloaths to diſguiſe me, my own being very rich and magnificent.

Having recommended me as a Relation of his, who was newly arrived, I was received very civilly by the People with whom he placed me; and, finding this young Man to be very witty and diſcreet, and alſo very capable of ſerving me, I communicated to him my In⯑tentions by ſtaying, which were only to be near the Divine Sydimiris, and to have the Happineſs of ſometimes ſeeing her, when ſhe went abroad.

This Man entering into my Meaning, aſſured me, he would faithfully keep my Secret; and that he would not fail to bring me Intelligence of all that paſſed in the Palace of Marcomire.

I could with Difficulty keep myſelf from falling at his Feet, to expreſs my Senſe of his kind and generous Offers; but I contented myſelf with preſenting him another Sum of Money, larger than the firſt, and aſſured him of my future Gratitude.

He then took Leave, and left me to my Re⯑flections, which were wholly upon the Image of the Divine Sydimiris, and the Happineſs of being ſo near the Object I adored.

[86] My Confident came to me the next Day; but brought me no other News, than that my Eſcape was not yet known to Marcomire. I inquired if he had ſeen Sydimiris; but he re⯑plied he had not, and that Urinoe had only aſked him, if he had conducted me ſafe out of Town: To which he had anſwered as we had agreed, that I had got out ſafe and undiſco⯑vered.

A Day or two after, he brought me News more pleaſing; for he told me, that Sydimiris had ſent for him into her Chamber, and aſked him ſeveral Queſtions concerning me: That ſhe appeared very melancholy, and even bluſh⯑ed, whenever ſhe mentioned my Name.

This Account gave ſufficient Matter for my Thoughts to work upon for ſeveral Days. I interpreted Sydimiris's Bluſh a Thouſand differ⯑ent Ways; I reflected upon all the different Cauſes to which it might be owing, and buſied myſelf with all thoſe innumerable Conjectures, which, as you know, Madam, ſuch an Incident always gives Riſe to in a Lover's Imagination. At length I explained it to my own Advantage, and felt thereby a conſiderable Increaſe of my Affection.

A whole Week having elapſed, without another Sight of my Confidant, I began to be greatly alarmed; when, on the Eighth Day of this cruel Suſpenſe, I ſaw him appear; but with ſo many Marks of Diſturbance in his Face, that I trembled to hear what he had to acquaint me with.

Oh! Sir, ſaid he, as ſoon as his Concern ſuffered him to ſpeak, Marcomire has diſcovered [87] your Eſcape, and the Means by which it was pro⯑cured: One of thoſe in whom Urinoe confided, has betrayed it to him; and the beauteous Sy⯑dimiris is likely to feel the moſt terrible Effects of his Diſpleaſure: He has confined her to her Chamber, and vows to ſacrifice her Life to the Honour of his Family; which he ſays, ſhe has ſtained; and he loads that admirable Lady with ſo many Reproaches, that it is thought, her Grief for ſuch undeſerved Calumnies will occaſion her Death.

Scarce had he finiſhed theſe cruel Words, when I, who all the time he had been ſpeaking, beheld him with a dying Eye, ſunk down at his Feet in a Swoon; which continued ſo long, that he began to think me quite dead: How⯑ever I at laſt opened my Eyes; but it was only to pour forth a River of Tears, and to utter Complaints, which might have moved the moſt obdurate Heart.

After having a long time tormented myſelf in weeping and complaining, I at laſt took a Reſolution, which afforded me ſome Alleviation of my Grief; and the faithful Toxares, ſeeing me a little compoſed, left me to myſelf, with a Promiſe to return ſoon, and acquaint me with what paſſed further in the Palace of Marcomire.

As ſoon as he was gone, I roſe from my Bed; and, dreſſing myſelf in thoſe Cloaths I wore when I was taken Priſoner, I went to the Pa⯑lace of Marcomire; and, demanding to ſee him, I was told he was in the Apartment of Sydimi⯑ris; and, at my earneſt Deſire, they conducted me thither.

[88] When I entered the Room, I beheld that incomparable Beauty ſtretched upon a Couch, diſſolved in Tears; and Urinoe upon her Knees, before her, accompanying with her own, thoſe precious Drops which fell from the bright Eyes of her Miſtreſs.

Marcomire, who was walking furiouſly about the Room, exclaiming with the utmoſt Vio⯑lence againſt that fair Sufferer, did not obſerve my Entrance; ſo that I had an Opportunity of going towards Sydimiris, who, lifting up her Eyes to look upon me, gave a loud Shriek; and, by a Look of extreme Anguiſh, let me underſtand, how great her Apprehenſions were upon my Account.

I am come, Madam, ſaid I, to perform Part of the Promiſe I made you, and by dying, to prove your Innocence; and, freeing you from the Reproaches you ſuffer on my Account, I ſhall have the Happineſs to convince you, that my Life is infinitely leſs dear to me, than your Tranquillity. Sydimiris, who hearkened to me with great Emotion, was going to make ſome Anſwer, when Marcomire, alarmed by his Siſter's Shriek, came towards us, and, view⯑ing me at firſt with Aſtoniſhment, and then with a Smile of Cruelty and Revenge,

Is it poſſible, ſaid he, that I behold my de⯑ſigned Murderer again in my Power?

I am in thy Power, ſaid I, becauſe I am willing to be ſo; and came voluntarily to put myſelf into your Hands, to free that excellent Lady from the Imputation you have laid on her: Know, Marcomire, that it is to myſelf alone I owed my Liberty, which I would ſtill pre⯑ſerve [89] againſt all the Forces thou couldſt bring to deprive me of it; and this Sword, which left thee Life enough to threaten mine, would haply once more put yours in Danger, were I not re⯑ſtrained by a powerful Conſideration, which leaves me not the Liberty of even wiſhing you ill.

Ah! Diſſembler, ſaid Marcomire, in a Rage, think not to impoſe upon me by thy counter⯑feited Mildneſs: Thou art my Priſoner once more, and I ſhall take care to prevent your eſcaping a Second time.

I am not your Priſoner, replied I, while I poſſeſs this Sword, which has already defended me againſt greater Numbers than you have here to oppoſe me; but, continued I, throwing down my Sword at Sydimiris's Feet, I reſign my Li⯑berty to reſtore that Lady to your good Opi⯑nion, and to free her from thoſe baſe Aſperſions thou haſt unjuſtly loaded her with, upon my Account.

It matters not, ſaid the brutal Brother, taking up my Sword, whether thou haſt reſigned, or I have deprived thee of Liberty; but ſince thou art in my Power, thou ſhall feel all the Effects of my Reſentment: Take him away, purſued he to ſome of his People; put him into the worſt Dungeon you can find; and let him be guarded carefully, upon Pain of Death, if he again eſcapes.

With theſe Words, ſeveral Men offered to lead me out of the Room; but I repulſed them with Diſdain; and, making a low Reverence to Sydimiris, whoſe Countenance expreſſed the Extremes of Fear and Anguiſh, I followed my [90] Conductors to the Priſon allotted for me; which, hideous as it was, I contemplated with a ſecret Pleaſure, ſince I had by that Action, which had brought me into it, given a Teſtimony of my Love for the adorable Sydimiris.

CHAP. VI.

I Paſſed ſome Days in this Confinement, mel⯑ancholy enough: My Ignorance of the Deſtiny of Sydimiris gave me more Pain than the Senſe of my own Misfortunes; and one Evening, when I was more then uſually diſ⯑quieted, one of my Guard entered my Priſon, and, giving me a Letter, retired, without ſpeak⯑ing a Word: I opened this Letter with Preci⯑pitation, and, by the Light of a Lamp which was allowed me, I read the following Words.

This Letter, Madam, purſued Sir George, being wholly calculated to make me hope that I was not hated by the Divine Sydimiris; and that ſhe meditated ſomething in my Favour; I reſigned myſelf up to the moſt delightful Ex⯑pectations.

What! cried I, tranſported with the Ex⯑ceſs of my Joy: Does the moſt admirable Sy⯑dimiris condeſcend to aſſure me, that I have touched her Heart? And does ſhe promiſe me, that I ſhall receive ſome convincing Proof of her Acknowlegement?

Ah! too happy, and too fortunate Bellmour, to what a glorious Deſtiny haſt thou been re⯑ſerved! And how oughteſt thou to adore theſe Fetters, that have procured thee the Eſteem of the Divine Sydimiris!—

Such, Madam, were the Apprehenſions, which the Billet I had received inſpired me with. I continually flattered myſelf with the moſt pleaſing Hopes; and during Three Weeks longer, in which I heard no more from Sydi⯑miris, my Imagination, was wholly filled with thoſe ſweet Thoughts, which her Letter had made me entertain.

At length, on the Evening of a Day which I had wholly ſpent in reading over Sydimiris's Letter; and interpreting the Senſe of it a thou⯑ſand different Ways, but all agreeable to my ardent Wiſhes; I ſaw the ſage Urinoe enter my [92] Priſon, accompanied by Toxares, whom I had not ſeen during my laſt Confinement. Wholly tranſported at the Sight of theſe Two Friends, and not doubting but they had brought me the moſt agreeable News, I ran towards them; and, throwing my ſelf at Urinoe's Feet, I begged her, in an Ecſtacy of Joy, to acquaint me with Sy⯑dimiris's Commands.

Urinoe, in ſome Confuſion at this Action, intreated me to riſe. 'Tis fit, cried I, in a Tranſport I could not maſter, that in this Poſture I ſhould receive the Knowlege of that Felicity Sydimiris has had the Goodneſs to promiſe me. Urinoe ſighed at theſe Words; and, beholding me with a Look of Compaſſion and Tenderneſs,

Would to God, ſaid ſhe, that all I have to ſay, were as agreeable, as the firſt News I have to tell you; which is, that you are free, and at Liberty to leave the Town this Moment! Sy⯑dimiris, continued ſhe, has bought your Free⯑dom, at the Expence of her own; and, to de⯑liver you from her Brother's Chains, ſhe has put on others, haply more cruel than thoſe you have worn: In fine, ſhe has married a Man, whom ſhe deteſted, to procure your Liberty; her Brother having granted it to her upon that Condition alone.

Scarce had Urinoe finiſhed theſe Words, when I fell, without Senſe or Motion, at her Feet. Toxares and ſhe, who had foreſeen what might happen, having provided themſelves with Cor⯑dials neceſſary to reſtore me, brought me to myſelf with infinite Trouble.

[93] Cruel! ſaid I to them, with a Tone and Look, which witneſſed the Exceſs of my Deſpair, Why have you hindered me from dying, at once to prevent the thouſand Deaths I ſhall ſuffer from my Grief? Is this the Con⯑firmation of thoſe glorious Hopes Sydimiris had permitted me to entertain? Is this that Proof of the Acknowlegements I was to expect? And is it by throwing herſelf into the Arms of my Rival, that ſhe repays thoſe Obligations ſhe thinks ſhe owes me?

Ah! inhuman Sydimiris! was it to make my Deſpair more poignant, that thou flattereſt me with ſuch a Proſpect of Happineſs? And was it neceſſary, to the Grandeur of thy Nup⯑tials, that my Life ſhould be the Sacrifice?

But, how unjuſt am I, cried I, repenting in an Inſtant of thoſe injurious Suſpicions; How unjuſt am I, to accuſe the Divine Sydimiris of Inhumanity? Was it not to give me Freedom, that ſhe beſtowed herſelf upon a Man ſhe hates? And has ſhe not made herſelf miſerable for ever, to procure me a fanſied Happineſs?

Ah! if it be ſo, what a Wretch am I? I, who have been the only Cauſe of that Miſery, to which ſhe has doomed herſelf? Ah! Liberty! purſued I, how I deteſt thee, ſince purchaſed by the Misfortune of Sydimiris! And how far more ſweet and glorious were thoſe Chains, which I wore for her ſake!

My Sighs and Tears leaving me no longer the Power of Speech, I ſunk down on my Bed, oppreſs'd with a mortal Grief.

Urinoe and Toxares drew near to comfort me, [94] and ſaid all that ſenſible and diſcreet Perſons could think of to alleviate my Deſpair.

Though I have heard that Sydimiris is mar⯑ried, replied I, without dying immediately; yet do not imagine, that I will ſuffer this odious Life to continue long. If Sorrow do not quickly diſpatch me, I will ſeek Death by other Means; for ſince Sydimiris is loſt, I have no more Buſi⯑neſs in the World.

The charitable Urinoe and Toxares endea⯑voured in vain to divert me from this ſad Re⯑ſolution, when Urinoe, finding all their Reaſon⯑ings ineffectual, drew a Letter out of her Pocket, and, preſenting it to me, I had Orders, ſaid ſhe, not to let this Letter be delivered to you, till you had left the Town; but the Deſpair, to which I ſee you reduced, does, I conceive, diſpenſe with my rigorous Obſervation of thoſe Directions.

While Urinoe was ſpeaking, I opened this Letter trembling, and found it as follows.

CHAP. VII.

Ah! Sydimiris, cried I, having read this Letter, more cruel in your Kindneſs than Se⯑verity! After having deprived me of yourſelf, do you forbid me to die; and expoſe me by ſo rigorous a Command to Ills infinitely more hard and painful than Death?

Yes, purſued I, after a little Pauſe; yes, Sy⯑dimiris, [96] thou ſhalt be obeyed; we will not dye, ſince thou haſt commanded us to live; and, notwithſtanding the Tortures to which thou condemneſt us, we will obey this Command; and give thee a glorious Proof of our preſent Submiſſion, by enduring that Life, which the Loſs of thee has rendered truly wretched.

Urinoe and Toxares, ſomewhat reaſſured, by the Reſolution I had taken, exhorted me by all the Perſuaſions, Friendſhip could put in their Mouths, to perſevere in it; and, Urinoe bid⯑ding me Farewel, I endeavoured to prevail upon her to procure me a Sight of Sydimiris once more, or at leaſt to bear a Letter from me to her; but ſhe refuſed both theſe Requeſts ſo obſtinately, telling me, Sydimiris would neither conſent to the one nor the other, that I was oblig⯑ed to be contented with the Promiſe ſhe made me, to repreſent my Affliction in a true Light to her Miſtreſs; and to aſſure her, that nothing but her abſolute Commands could have hin⯑dered me from dying. Then, taking leave of me with much Tenderneſs, ſhe went out of tbe Priſon, leaving Toxares with me, who aſ⯑ſiſted me to dreſs, and conducted me out of that miſerable Place, where I had paſſed ſo many ſad, and alſo joyful Hours. At a Gate to which he brought me, I found a Horſe waiting; and, having embraced this faithful Confidant, with many Expreſſions of Gratitude, I beſtowed a Ring of ſome Value upon him to remember me by; and, mounting my Horſe, with a breaking Heart, I took the firſt Road which preſented itſelf to my Eyes, and galloped away, without knowing whither I went. I rode the whole [97] Night, ſo totally engroſſed by my Deſpair, that I did not perceive my Horſe was ſo tired, it could hardly carry me a Step farther: At laſt the poor Beaſt fell down under me, ſo that I was obliged to diſmount; and, looking about me, perceived I was in a Foreſt, without ſee⯑ing the leaſt Appearance of any Habitation.

The Wilderneſs, and Solitude of the Place, flattered my Deſpair, and while my Horſe was feeding upon what Graſs he could find, I wan⯑dered about: The Morning juſt breaking, gave me Light enough to direct my Steps. Chance at laſt conducted me to a Cave, which ſeemed to have been the Reſidence of ſome Hermit, or unfortunate Lover like myſelf. It was dug at the Side of a Rock, the Entrance to it thick ſet with Buſhes, which hid it from View. I deſcended by a few Steps cut rudely enough, and was convinced, it had formerly ſerved for a Habitation for ſome religious or melan⯑choly Perſon; for there were Seats of Turf raiſed on each Side of it, a kind of Bed com⯑poſed of dried Leaves and Ruſhes, and a Hole made artificially at the Top, to admit the Light.

While I conſidered this Place attentively, I all at once took up a Reſolution, inſpired by my Deſpair; which was, to continue there, and indulge my Melancholy in a Retirement ſo fitted for my Purpoſe.

Giving my Horſe therefore Liberty to go where he pleaſed, and hanging up my Arms upon a Tree near my Cave, I took Poſſeſſion of this ſolitary Manſion, with a gloomy Kind of Satisfaction, and devoted all my Hours to the Contemplation of my Misfortunes.

[98] I lived in this manner, Madam, for Ten Months, without feeling the leaſt Deſire to change my Habitation; and, during all that time, no Mortal approached my Solitude, ſo that I lived perfectly ſecure and undiſcovered.

Sir George pauſing here to take Breath, the old Baronet ſaid what will be found in the following Chapter.

CHAP. VIII.

GIVE me Leave, Sir, ſaid Sir Charles, to aſk, If you eat in all this Time?

Alas! Sir, replied Sir George, Sighs and Tears were all my Suſtenance.

Sir Charles, Mr. Glanville, and Miſs, laugh⯑ing at this Anſwer, Arabella ſeemed greatly con⯑fuſed:

It is not to be imagined, ſaid ſhe, that Sir George; or, to ſay better, Prince Viridmore, lived Ten Months without eating any thing to ſupport Nature; but ſuch trifling Circumſtances are always left out, in the Relations of Hiſtories; and truly an Audience muſt be very dull and unapprehenſive, that cannot conceive, without being told, that a Man muſt neceſſarily eat in the Space of Ten Months.

But the Food Sir George lived on, replied the Baronet, was very unſubſtantial, and would not afford him much Nouriſhment.

[99] I ſuppoſe, reſumed Arabella, he lived upon ſuch Proviſions as the Foreſt afforded him; ſuch as wild Fruits, Herbs, bitter Sallads, and the like; which, conſidering the Melancholy that poſſeſſed him, would appear a voluptuous Re⯑paſt; and which the unfortunate Orontes, when he was in the ſame Situation, thought infinitely too good for him.

Sir Charles, finding Arabella took no Notice of the Hiſtorian's Hyperbole of living upon his Sighs and Tears, paſſed it over, for fear of of⯑fending her; and Sir George, who had been in ſome Anxiety how to bring himſelf off, when he perceived Arabella was reaſonable enough to ſuppoſe he muſt have eat during his Abode in the Foreſt, went on with his Relation in this Manner.

I lived, as I before obſerved to you, Ma⯑dam, in this Cave for Ten Months; and truly I was ſo reconciled to that ſolitary way of Life, and found ſo much Sweetneſs in it, that I be⯑lieve, I ſhould have remained there till this Day, but for the Adventure which I am going to recount.

It being my Cuſtom to walk out every Even⯑ing in the Foreſt; returning to my Cave, ſomething later then uſual, I heard the Cries of a Woman at ſome Diſtance, who ſeemed to be in Diſtreſs: I ſtopped to liſten from what Side thoſe Cries proceeded; and perceiving they ſeemed to approach nearer to me, I took down my Armour from the Tree where I had hung it; and haſtily arming myſelf, ſhaped my Courſe towards the Place from whence thoſe [100] Complaints ſeemed to come, reſolving to aſſiſt that unknown Perſon with all the Strength that was left me.

Having gone ſome Paces, I ſpied through the Branches of the Trees a Man on Horſe⯑back with a Lady, who ſtruggled to get looſe, and at times calling aloud for Succour.

This Sight inflaming me with Rage againſt that impious Raviſher; I flew towards him: And when I came within hearing;

Hold, Wretch! cried I, and ceaſe to offer Violence to that Lady, whom thou beareſt away by Force; or prepare to defend thyſelf againſt one, who will die, before he will ſuffer thee to proſecute thy unjuſt Deſigns.

The Man, without anſwering me, clapped Spurs to his Horſe; and it would have been impoſſible to have overtaken him, had not my own Horſe, which had never quitted the Foreſt, appeared in my View: I quickly mounted him, and followed the Track the Raviſher had taken, with ſuch Speed, that I came up with him in a Moment.

Caitiff! ſaid I, releaſe the Lady, and de⯑fend thyſelf. Theſe Words, which I accom⯑panied with a thundering Blow upon his Head-piece, obliged him to ſet down the Lady, who implored Heaven, with the utmoſt Ar⯑dour, to grant me the Victory: And, recoiling back a few Paces, to take a View of me,

I know not, ſaid he, for what Reaſon thou ſetteſt thyſelf to oppoſe my Deſigns; but I well know, that thou ſhalt dearly repent of thy Temerity.

Saying this, he advanced furiouſly towards [101] me, and aimed ſo heavy a Blow at my Head, that, had I not received it on my Shield, I might haply have no longer been in a Condi⯑tion to defend the diſtreſſed Lady: But, hav⯑ing, with the greateſt Dexterity imaginable, avoided this Blow, I made at him with ſo much Fierceneſs, and directed my Aims ſo well, that in a few Moments I wounded him in ſeveral Places; and his Arms were all dyed with his Blood.

This good Succeſs redoubled my Vigour; and having, by a lucky Stroke with my Sword, cut the Strings of his Head-piece, it fell off: And his Head being bare, I was going to let fall a dreadful Blow upon it, which doubtleſ [...] would have ſhivered it in a thouſand Pieces, when he cried out for Quarter, and, letting fall his Sword, by that Action aſſured me my Vi⯑ctory was intire.

Live Wretch, cried I, ſince thou art baſe enough to value Life after being vanquiſhed; but ſwear upon my Sword, that thou wilt ne⯑ver more attempt the Liberty of that Lady.

While I was ſpeaking, I perceived he was no longer able to ſit his Horſe: But, ſtaggering a Moment, he fell off, and lay extended with⯑out Motion upon the Ground. Touched with Compaſſion at this Sight, I alighted, and, ſup⯑poſing him to be in a Swoon, was preparing to give him ſome Aſſiſtance; but, upon my nearer Approach, I found he was quite dead.

Leaving therefore this mournful Object, I I turned about, with an Intention to go and offer the diſtreſſed Lady my further Help; but I perceived her already at my Feet.

[102] Valiant Knight, ſaid ſhe, with a Tone of Voice ſo bewitching, that all my Faculties were ſuſpended, as by Inchantment, ſuffer me, on my Knees, to thank you, for the De⯑liverance you have procured me from that baſe Man; ſince to your admirable Valour I owe not only the Preſervation of my Life; but, what is infinitely dearer to me, my Honour.

The Aſtoniſhment, wherewith I beheld the miraculous Beauty that appeared before me, kept me a Moment in ſuch an attentive Gaze, that I forgot ſhe was at my Feet: Recollecting myſelf, however, with ſome Confuſion at my Neglect,

Oh! riſe, Madam, cried I, helping her up with infinite Reſpect, and debaſe not ſuch Per⯑fection to a Poſture, in which all the Mon⯑archs on the Earth might glory to appear be⯑fore it.

That you may the better conceive the Al⯑teration which the Sight of this fair Unknown produced in my Soul, I will endeavour, to give you a Deſcription of her Beauty, which was altogether miraculous.

CHAP. IX.

THE new-fallen Snow, purſued Sir George, was tanned, in Compariſon of the refin⯑ed Purity of that White which made up the [103] Ground of her Complexion; and, though Fear had a little gathered the Carnations of her Cheeks, yet her Joy at being delivered ſeemed to plant them there with ſuch freſh Advantages, that my Eye might ſhrink at the Brightneſs of that mingled Luſtre: Her Mouth, as well for Shape as Colour, might ſhame the Imitation of the beſt Pencils, and the livelieſt Tints; and though through ſome petty Inter⯑vals of Joy, it wanted the Smiles, which Grief and Terror ſequeſtred, yet ſhe never opened it, but like the Eaſt, at the Birth of a beautiful Day, and then diſcovered Treaſures, whoſe ex⯑celling Whiteneſs made the Price ineſtimable: All the Features of her Face had ſo near a Kindred to Proportion and Symmetry, as the ſeveral Maſters of Apelles's Art might have called it his Glory to have copied Beauties from her, as the beſt of Models: The Circumfe⯑rence of her Viſage ſhewed the Extremes of an imperfect Circle, and almoſt formed it to a perfect Oval: And this Abridgment of Mar⯑vels was tapered by a Pair of the brighteſt Stars, that ever were lighted up by the Hand of Nature: As their Colour was the ſame with the Heavens, there was a ſpherical Harmony in their Motion; and that mingled with a Vi⯑vacity ſo penetrating, as neither the firmeſt Eye, nor the ſtrongeſt Soul, could arm them⯑ſelves with a Reſiſtance of Proof againſt thoſe pointed Glories: Her Head was crowned with a prodigious Quantity of fair long Hair, which Colour as fitly ſuited the Beauty of her Eyes, as Imagination could make it: To theſe Mar⯑vels of Face were joined the reſt of her Neck, [104] Hands, and Shape; and there ſeemed a Conteſt between the Form and Whiteneſs of the two former, which had the largeſt Commiſſion from Nature to work Wonders.

In fine, her Beauty was miraculous, and could not fail of producing a ſudden Effect upon a Heart like mine.

Having paſſed in an Inſtant from the ex⯑tremeſt Admiration, to ſomething yet more tender, I reiterated my Offers of Service to the fair Unknown; who told me, ſhe feared her Father had Occaſion for ſome Aſſiſtance, her Raviſher having left his Men to engage him, and keep off his Purſuit, while he rode off with his Prize: Hereupon I begg'd her to direct me to the Place where ſhe left her Father, aſſuring her I would gladly venture my Life a Second time, to preſerve his; and ſhe deſiring to go with me, I placed her before me on my Horſe, and had the exquiſite Pleaſure of ſupporting with my Arms the faireſt and moſt admirable Creature in the World.

In leſs than half an Hour, which had ap⯑peared to me but a Moment, we got to the Place where ſhe had been torn from her Father; whom we beheld with three of his Servants, maintaining a Fight againſt twice as many of their Enemies.

Having gently ſet down the beauteous Un⯑known upon the Graſs, I flew to the Relief of her Father; and, throwing myſelf furiouſly amongſt his Aſſailants, diſpatched two of them with ſo many Blows: The others, ſeeing ſo un⯑expected an Aſſiſtance, gave back a little; and [105] I took Advantage of their Conſternation, to redouble my Blows, and brought Two more of them at my Feet.

There remained now but Four to overcome; and my Arrival having given new Vigour to thoſe whoſe Part I had taken, they ſeconded me ſo well, that we ſoon had nothing more left to do; for the reſt, ſeeing their Comrades ſlain, ſought their Safety in Flight: We were too generous to purſue them, the Blood of ſuch Wretches being unworthy to be ſhed by our Swords.

The fair Unknown, ſeeing us Conquerors, flew to embrace her Father; who, holding her preſſed between his Arms, turned his Eyes upon me; then quitting her, came towards me, and, in the moſt obliging Terms imaginable, re⯑turned me Thanks for the Aſſiſtance I had brought him; and being informed by his Daughter, of what I had done for her Preſer⯑vation, this old Gentleman renewed his Ac⯑knowlegements, calling me the Preſerver of his Life, the valiant Defender of his Daugh⯑ter's Honour, his tutelary Angel, and the Guardian of his Houſe.

In fine, he loaded me with ſo many Thanks and Praiſes, that I could not chooſe but be in ſome Confuſion; and, to put an End to them, I begged he would inform me, by what means he came into that Misfortune.

He told me, that, reſiding in a Caſtle at the Extremity of this Foreſt, the Charms of his Daughter had captivated a neighbouring Lord, whoſe Character and Perſon being diſagreeable [106] both to her and himſelf, he had abſolutely re⯑fuſed to give her to him: Thereupon he had ſet upon them as they were going to viſit a Rela⯑tion at ſome Diſtance, and, dragging Philonice out of the Coach, put her before him on his Horſe, and carried her away, leaving Eight of his Men to engage him, and his Servants; who, being but Four in Number, muſt inevitably have periſhed, had I not come to his Relief, and, by my miraculous Valour, vanquiſhed all his Enemies.

Saying this, he deſired me to go home with him to the Caſtle; and having led his Daugh⯑ter to the Coach, inſiſted upon my placing my⯑ſelf next her; and, getting in himſelf, ordered them to return home.

This Accident having altered his Deſign of making the Viſit which had been the Occaſion of his Journey;

The Baron, for that I found was his Title, entertained me, all the Way, with repeated Ex⯑preſſions of Acknowledgements and Tenderneſs; and the incomparable Philonice condeſcended alſo to aſſure me of her Gratitude for the Ser⯑vice I had done her.

At our Arrival at the Caſtle, I perceived it was very large and magnificent: The Baron con⯑ducted me to one of the beſt Apartments, and would ſtay in the Room till my Armour was taken off, that he might be aſſured I had re⯑ceived no Hurts: Having rendered him the like Civility in his own Chamber, and ſatisfied myſelf he was not wounded, we returned to the beautiful Philonice; and this ſecond Sight [107] having finiſhed my Defeat, I remained ſo ab⯑ſolutely her Slave, that neither Dorothea nor Sydimiris were more paſſionately beloved.

At the earneſt Intreaty of the Baron, I ſtaid ſome Weeks in the Caſtle; during which, the daily Sight of Philonice ſo augmented my Flames, that I was no longer in a Condition to conceal them; but, fearing to diſpleaſe that Di⯑vine Beauty by a Confeſſion of my Paſſion, I languiſhed in ſecret; and the Conſtraint I laid upon myſelf, gave me ſuch Torments, that I fell into a profound Melancholy, and looked ſo pale and dejected, that the Baron was ſenſi⯑ble of the Alteration, and conjured me in the moſt preſſing Terms, to acquaint him with the Cauſe of my Uneaſineſs: But though I conti⯑nued obſtinately ſilent with my Tongue, yet my Eyes ſpoke intelligibly enough; and the Bluſhes which appeared in the fair Cheeks of Philonice, whenever ſhe ſpoke to me on the Subject of my Grief, convinced me ſhe was not ignorant of my Paſſion.

At length the Agitation of my Mind throw⯑ing me into a Fever, the Baron, who was firmly perſuaded, that my Illneſs proceeded from ſome concealed Vexation, preſſed me continually to declare myſelf; and, finding all his Intreaties ineffectual, he commanded his Daughter to en⯑deavour to find out the Cauſe of that Grief which had put me into ſuch a Condition.

For that Purpoſe therefore, having brought the fair Philonice into my Chamber, he ſtaid a few Minutes, and, leaving the Room, under Pretence of Buſineſs, Philonice remained alone [108] by my Bedſide, her Women, out of Reſpect, ſtaying at the other End of the Chamber.

This Divine Perſon, ſeeing herſelf alone with me, and remembring her Father's Command, bluſhed, and caſt down her Eyes in ſuch appa⯑rent Confuſion, that I could not help obſerving it: And, interpreting it to the Diſpleaſure ſhe took in being ſo near me,

Whatever Joy I take in the Honour your Viſit does me, Madam, ſaid I, in a weak Voice; yet ſince nothing is ſo dear to me, as your Sa⯑tisfaction, I would rather diſpenſe with this Mark of your Goodneſs to an unfortunate Wretch, then ſee you in the leaſt Conſtraint.

And why, replied ſhe, with a Tone full of Sweetneſs, do you ſuppoſe that I am here by Conſtraint, when it would be more juſt to be⯑lieve, that in viſiting the valiant Defender of my Honour, and the Life of my Father, I only follow my own Inclinations?

Ah! Madam, ſaid I, tranſported with Joy at ſo favourable a Speech, the little Service I had the Happineſs to do you, does not merit ſo infinite a Favour; and tho' I had loſt the beſt Part of my Blood in your Defence, I ſhould have been well rewarded with your Safety.

Since you do not repent of what you have done, replied ſhe, I am willing to be obliged to you for another Favour; and aſk it with the greater Hope of obtaining it, as I muſt acquaint you, it is by my Father's Command I take that Liberty, who is much intereſted in my Succeſs.

[109] There is no Occaſion, Madam, returned I, to make uſe of any Intereſt but your own, to engage me to obey you, ſince that is, and ever will be, all-powerful with me: Speak then, Madam, and let me know what it is you deſire of me, that I may, once in my Life, have the Glory of obeying you.

It is, ſaid ſhe, bluſhing ſtill more than before, that you will acquaint us with the Cauſe of that Melancholy, which has, as we imagine, occa⯑ſioned your preſent Illneſs.

At theſe Words I trembled, turned pale; and, not daring to diſcover the true Cauſe of my Affliction, I remained in a profound Silence.

I ſee, ſaid the beautiful Philonice, that you have no Inclination to obey me; and ſince my Requeſt has, as I perceive, given you ſome Diſturbance, I will prevail upon my Father to preſs you no farther upon this Subject.

No, Madam, ſaid I, eagerly; the Baron ſhall be ſatisfied, and you ſhall be obeyed; though, after the Knowlege of my Crime, you doom me to that Death I ſo juſtly merit.

Yes Madam, this unfortunate Man, who has had the Glory to acquire your Eſteem by the little Service he did you, has cancelled the Me⯑rit of that Service by daring to adore you.

I love you, divine Philonice; and, not being able either to repent, or ceaſe to be guilty of loving you, I am reſolved to die, and ſpare you the Trouble of pronouncing my Sentence. I beſeech you therefore to believe, that I would have died in Silence, but for your Command to declare myſelf, and you ſhould never have [110] known the Exceſs of my Love and Deſpair, had not my Obedience to your Will obliged me to confeſs it.

I finiſhed theſe Words with ſo much Fear and Confuſion, that I durſt not lift my Eyes up to the fair Face of Philonice, to obſerve how ſhe received this Diſcourſe: I waited therefore, trembling, for her Anſwer; but finding that in ſeveral Minutes ſhe ſpoke not a Word, I ven⯑tured at laſt, to caſt a languiſhing Glance upon the Viſage I adored, and ſaw ſo many Marks of Diſorder upon it, that I was almoſt dead with the Apprehenſions of having offended her beyond even the Hope of procuring her Pardon by my Death.

CHAP. X.

THE Silence of Philonice, continued Sir George, pierced me to the Heart; and when I ſaw her riſe from her Seat, and prepare to go away without ſpeaking, Grief took ſuch Poſſeſſion of my Spirits, that, uttering a Cry, I fell into a Swoon, which, as I afterwards was informed, greatly alarmed the beautiful Philo⯑nice; who, reſuming her Seat, had the Good⯑neſs to aſſiſt her Women in bringing me to myſelf; and, when I opened my Eyes, I had [111] the Satisfaction to behold her ſtill by me, and all the Signs of Compaſſion in her Face.

This Sight a little re-aſſuring me; I aſk your Pardon, Madam, ſaid I, for the Condition in which I have appeared before you, and alſo for that I am not yet dead, as is doubtleſs your Wiſh: But I will make Haſte, purſued I, ſighing, to fulfil your Deſires; and you ſhall ſoon be freed from the Sight of a miſerable Wretch, who, to his laſt Moment, will not ceaſe to adore you.

It is not your Death that I deſire, ſaid the fair Philonice; and, after having preſerved both my Father and me from Death, it is not rea⯑ſonable, that we ſhould ſuffer you to die, if we can help it.

Live therefore, Bellmour, purſued ſhe, bluſh⯑ing; and live, if poſſible, without continuing in that Weakneſs I cannot chooſe but condemn: Yet whatever are your Thoughts for the future, remember that your Death will be a Fault I cannot reſolve to pardon.

Speaking theſe Words, without giving me time to anſwer, ſhe left my Chamber; and I found ſomething ſo ſweet and favourable in them, that I reſolved to obey her, and forward my Cure as much as I was able: However, the Agitation of Spirits increaſed my Fever ſo much, that my Life was deſpaired of.

The Baron hardly ever left my Bedſide. Philonice came every Day to ſee me, and ſeemed extremely moved at the Danger I was in. One Day, when I was worſe than uſual, ſhe came [112] cloſe to the Bedſide; and, opening the Cour⯑tain,

What Bellmour, ſaid ſhe, do you pay ſo little Obedience to my Commands, that you reſolve to die?

Heaven is my Witneſs, Madam, ſaid I, faintly, that nothing is ſo dear and ſacred to me as your Commands; and ſince, out of your ſuperlative Goodneſs, you are pleaſed to have ſome Care for my Life, I would preſerve it to obey you, were it in my Power; but, alas! Madam, I ſtrive in vain to repel the Violence of my Diſtemper.

In a few Days more, I was reduced to the laſt Extremity: It was then that the fair Phi⯑lonice diſcovered, that ſhe did not hate me; for ſhe made no Scruple to weep before me; and thoſe Tears ſhe ſo liberally ſhed, had ſo pow⯑erful an Effect upon my Mind, that the Con⯑tentment I felt, communicated itſelf to my Body, and gave ſuch a Turn to my Diſtemper, that my Recovery was not only hoped, but ex⯑pected.

The Baron expreſſed his Satisfaction at this Alteration, by the moſt affectionate Expreſ⯑ſions; and though the fair Philonice ſaid very little, yet I perceived by the Joy that appeared in her fair Eyes, that ſhe was not leſs intereſted in my Recovery, than her Father.

The Phyſicians having declared me out of Danger, the Baron, who had taken his Re⯑ſolutions long before, came one Day into my Chamber; and ordering thoſe who attended me, to leave us alone,

[113] Prince, ſaid he, for in recounting my Hiſtory to him, I had diſcloſed my true Quality, I am not ignorant of that Affection you bear my Daughter; and am ſenſible it has occaſioned the Extremity to which we have ſeen you re⯑duced: Had you been pleaſed to acquaint me with your Sentiments, you would have avoided thoſe Diſpleaſures you have ſuffered; for though your Birth were not ſo illuſtrious as it is, yet, preferring Virtue to all other Advantages, I ſhould have eſteemed my Daughter honou⯑red by your Love, and have freely beſtowed her on you: But ſince to thoſe rare Qualities wherewith Heaven has ſo liberally endowed you, you add alſo that of a Birth ſo noble, doubt not but I ſhall think myſelf highly fa⯑voured by your Alliance: If therefore your Thoughts of my Daughter be not changed, and you eſteem her worthy to be your Bride, I here ſolemnly promiſe you to beſtow her upon you, as ſoon as you are perfectly recovered.

I leave you to gueſs, Madam, the Joy which I felt at this Diſcourſe: It was ſo great, that it would not permit me to thank him, as I ſhould have done, for the ineſtimable Bleſſing he beſtowed on me.

I ſaw Philonice a few Minutes after; and, being commanded by her Father to give me her Hand, ſhe did ſo, without any Marks of Reluctance, and, having reſpectfully kiſſed it, I vowed to be her Slave for ever.

Who would have imagined, continued Sir George, with a profound Sigh, that Fortune, while ſhe thus ſeemed to flatter me, was pre⯑paring to make me ſuffer the ſevereſt Tor⯑ments? [114] I began now to leave my Bed, and was able to walk about my Chamber. The Baron was making great Preparations for our Nuptials; when one Night I was alarmed with the Cries of Philonice's Women; and, a few Moments after, the Baron came into my Chamber, with a diſtracted Air.

O! Son, cried he, for ſo he always called me, now Philonice is loſt both to you and me: She is carried off by Force, and I am preparing to follow and reſcue her, if poſſible; but I fear my Endeavours will be fruitleſs, ſince I know not which Way her Raviſhers have taken.

Oh! Sir, cried I, tranſported both with Grief and Rage, you ſhall not go alone: Her Reſcue belongs to me; and I will effect it, or periſh in the Attempt.

The Baron, having earneſtly conjured me not to expoſe myſelf to the Danger of a Re⯑lapſe, by ſo imprudent a Reſolution, was ob⯑liged to quit me, Word being brought him, that his Horſe was ready: And as ſoon as he was gone out of the Room, in ſpite of all that could be ſaid to prevent me, by my Attendants, I made them put on my Armour; and, mounting a Horſe I had cauſed to be made ready, fallied furiouſly out of the Caſtle, breathing out Vows of Vengeance againſt the Wretch who had robbed me of Philonice.

I rode the whole Night without ſtopping. Day appeared, when I found myſelf near a ſmall Village. I entered it, and made ſtrict Enquiry after the Raviſher of Philonice, de⯑ſcribing the fair Creature, and offering vaſt Re⯑wards to any who could bring me the leaſt In⯑telligence [115] of her: But all was in vain; I could make no Diſcovery.

After travelling ſeveral Days, to no Purpoſe, I returned to the Caſtle, in order to know if the Baron had been more ſucceſsful in his Pur⯑ſuit then myſelf; but I found him oppreſſed with Grief: He had heard no Tidings of his Daughter, and had ſuffered no ſmall Appre⯑henſions upon my Account. Having aſſured him I found myſelf very able to travel, I took an affectionate Leave of him, promiſing him never to give over my Search, till I had found the Divine Philonice: But Heaven has not per⯑mitted me that Happineſs; and though I have ſpent ſeveral Years in ſearching for her, I have never been able to diſcover where ſhe is: Time has not cured me of my Grief for her Loſs; and, though by an Effect of my Deſtiny, another Object poſſeſſes my Soul, yet I do not ceaſe to deplore her Misfortune, and to of⯑fer up Vows for her Happineſs.

And is this all you have to ſay? ſaid Ara⯑bella, whom the latter Part of his Hiſtory had extremely ſurpriſed; or are we to expect a Continuance of your Adventures?

I have faithfully related all my Adventures, that are worthy your Hearing, Madam, re⯑turned Sir George; and I flatter myſelf, you will do me the Juſtice to own, that I have been rather unfortunate than faithleſs; and that Mr. Glanville had little Reaſon to tax me with Inconſtancy.

In my Opinion, reſumed Arabella, Mr. Glanville ſpoke too favourably of you, when he called you only inconſtant; and if he had add⯑ed [116] the Epithet of Ungrateful and Unjuſt, he would have marked your Character better.

For, in fine, Sir, purſued ſhe, you will ne⯑ver perſuade any reaſonable Perſon, that your being able to loſe the Remembrance of the fair and generous Sydimiris, in your new Paſſion for Philonice, was not an Exceſs of Levity: But your ſuffering ſo tamely the Loſs of this laſt Beauty, and allowing her to remain in the Hands of her Raviſher, while you permit an⯑other Affection to take Poſſeſſion of your Soul, is ſuch an Outrage to all Truth and Conſtancy, that you deſerve to be ranked among the falſeſt of Mankind.

Alas! Madam, replied Sir George, who had not foreſeen the Influence Arabella would draw from this laſt Adventure, What would you have an unfortunate Man, whoſe Hopes have been ſo often, and ſo cruelly, diſappointed, do? I have bewailed the Loſs of Philonice, with a Deluge of Tears; I have taken infinite Pains to find her, but to no Purpoſe; and when Hea⯑ven compaſſionating my Sufferings, preſented to my Eyes, an Object, to whom the whole World ought to pay Adoration, how could I reſiſt that powerful Impulſe, which forced me to love what appeared ſo worthy of my Affection?

Call not, interrupted Arabella, that an ir⯑reſiſtible Impulſe, which was only the Effect of thy own changing Humour: The ſame Ex⯑cuſe might be pleaded for all the Faults we ſee committed in the World; and Men would no longer be anſwerable for their own Crimes. Had you imitated the illuſtrious Heroes of An⯑tiquity, as well in the Conſtancy of their Af⯑fections, [117] as, it muſt be confeſſed, you have done in their admirable Valour; you would now be either ſighing in your Cave for the Loſs of the generous Sydimiris, or wandering through the World in Search of the beautiful Philonice. Had you perſevered in your Affection, and con⯑tinued your Purſuit of that Fair-one; you would, perhaps, ere this, have found her ſleep⯑ing under the Shade of a Tree in ſome lone Fo⯑reſt, as Philodaſpes did his admirable Delia, or diſguiſed in a Slave's Habit, as Ariobarſanes ſaw his Divine Olympia; or bound haply in a Cha⯑riot, and have had the Glory of freeing her, as Ambriomer did the beauteous Agione; or in a Ship in the Hands of Pirates, like the incom⯑parable Eliza; or—

Enough, dear Niece, interrupted Sir Charles; you have quoted Examples ſufficient, if this in⯑conſtant Man would have the Grace to follow them.

True, Sir, replied Arabella; and I would recommend to his Conſideration the Conduct of thoſe illuſtrious Perſons I have named, to the end that, purſuing their Steps, he may arrive at their Glory and Happineſs, that is the Repu⯑tation of being perfectly conſtant, and the Poſ⯑ſeſſion of his Miſtreſs: And be aſſured, Sir, pur⯑ſued Arabella, looking at Sir George, that Hea⯑ven will never reſtore you the Crown of your Anceſtors, and place you upon the Throne to which you pretend, while you make yourſelf unworthy of its Protection, by ſo ſhameful an Inconſtancy.

I perhaps ſpeak with too much Freedom to a great Prince; whom though Fortune has de⯑ſpoiled [118] of his Dominions, is intitled to a certain Degree of Reſpect: But I conceive, it belongs to me, in a particular manner, to reſent the Baſeneſs of that Crime, to which you are pleaſ⯑ed to make me the Excuſe; and, looking upon myſelf, as diſhonoured by thoſe often proſtituted Vows you have offered me, I am to tell you, that I am highly diſobliged; and forbid you to appear in my Preſence again, till you have re⯑ſumed thoſe Thoughts, which are worthy your noble Extraction; and are capable of treating me with that Reſpect, that is my Due.

Saying this, ſhe roſe from he Seat, and walk⯑ed very majeſtically out of the Room, leaving Sir George overwhelmed with Shame and Vexa⯑tion at having conducted the latter Part of his Narration ſo ill, and drawn upon himſelf a Sentence, which deprived him of all his Hopes.

CHAP. XI.

MR. Glanville, exceſſively delighted with this Event, could not help laughing at the unfortunate Baronet; who ſeemed, by his Silence, and down-caſt Looks, to expect it.

Who would have imagined, ſaid he, that ſo renowned a Hero would have tarniſhed the Glory of his Laurels, as my Couſin ſays, by ſo baſe an Ingratitude? Indeed, Prince, purſued he, laughing, you muſt reſolve to recover your [119] Reputation, either by retiring again to your Cave, and living upon bitter Herbs, for the generous Sydimiris; or elſe wander through the World, in ſearch of the Divine Philonice.

Don't triumph, dear Charles, replied Sir George, laughing in his Turn; have a little Compaſſion upon me, and confeſs, that no⯑thing could be more unfortunate, than that damn'd Slip I made at the latter End of my Hiſtory: But for that, my Reputation for Courage and Conſtancy had been as high as the great Oroondates, or Juba.

Since you have ſo fertile an Invention, ſaid Sir Charles, you may eaſily repair this Miſtake. Ods-heart! It is pity you are not poor enough to be an Author; you would occupy a Garret in Grub-ſtreet, with great Fame to yourſelf, and Diverſion to the Public.

Oh! Sir, cried Sir George, I have Stock enough by me, to ſet up for an Author To⯑morrow, if I pleaſe: I have no leſs than Five Tragedies, ſome quite, others almoſt finiſhed; Three or Four Eſſays on Virtue, Happineſs, &c. Three thouſand Lines of an Epic Poem; half a Dozen Epitaphs; a few Acroſtics; and a long String of Puns, that would ſerve to embelliſh a Daily Paper, if I was diſpoſed to write one.

Nay, then, interrupted Mr. Glanville, you are qualified for a Critic at the Bedford Coffee-houſe; where, with the reſt of your Brothers, Demy-wits, you may ſit in Judgment upon the Productions of a Young, a R—, or a John⯑ſon. Rail with premeditated Malice at the Rambler; and, for the want of Faults, turn even its inimitable Beauties into Ridicule: The [120] Language, becauſe it reaches to Perfection, may be called ſtiff, laboured, and pedantic; the Criticiſms, when they let in more Light than your weak Judgment can bear, ſuperficial and oſtentatious Glitter; and becauſe thoſe Papers contain the fineſt Syſtem of Ethics yet extant, damn the queer Fellow, for over-propping Vir⯑tue; an excellent new Phraſe! which thoſe who can find no Meaning in, may accommodate with one of their own; then give ſhrewd Hints, that ſome Perſons, though they do not publiſh their Performances, may have more Merit, than thoſe that do.

Upon my Soul, Charles, ſaid Sir George, thou art ſuch an ill-natured Fellow, that I am afraid, thou wilt be ſneering at me when I am gone; and wilt endeavour, to perſuade Lady Bella, that not a Syllable of my Story is true. Speak, purſued he, Wilt thou have the Cruelty to deprive me of my lawful Claim to the great Kingdom of Kent; and rob me of the Glory of fighting ſingly againſt Five hundred Men?

I do not know, ſaid Sir Charles, whether my Niece be really impoſed upon, by the Gra⯑vity with which you told your ſurpriſing Hi⯑ſtory; but I proteſt, I thought you were in ear⯑neſt at firſt; and that you meant to make us believe it all to be Fact.

You are ſo fitly puniſhed, ſaid Mr. Glan⯑ville, for that ill-judged Adventure you related laſt, by the bad Opinion Lady Bella entertains of you, that I need not add to your Miſfortune: And therefore, you ſhall be Prince Veridomer, if you pleaſe; ſince, under that Character, you [121] are obliged not to pretend to any Lady, but the incomparable Philonice.

Sir George, who underſtood his Meaning, went home, to think of ſome Means, by which he might draw himſelf out of the Embarraſſ⯑ment he was in; and Mr. Glanville, as he had promiſed, did not endeavour to undeceive Lady Bella, with regard to the Hiſtory he had feign⯑ed; being very well ſatisfied with his having put it out of his Power to make his Addreſſes to her, ſince ſhe now looked upon him as the Lover of Philonice.

As for Sir Charles, he did not penetrate into the Meaning of Sir George's Story; and only imagined, that by relating ſuch a Heap of Ad⯑ventures, he had a Deſign to entertain the Company, and give a Proof of the Felicity of his Invention; and Miſs Glanville, who ſup⯑poſed, he had been ridiculing her Couſin's ſtrange Notions, was better pleaſed with him than ever.

Arabella, however, was leſs ſatisfied than any of them: She could not endure to ſee ſo brave a Knight, who drew his Birth from a Race of Kings, tarniſh the Glory of his gallant Actions by ſo baſe a Perfidy.

Alas! ſaid ſhe to herſelf, How much Rea⯑ſon has the beautiful Philonice to accuſe me for all the Anguiſh ſhe ſuffers? ſince I am the Cauſe, that the ungrateful Prince, on whom ſhe beſtows her Affections, ſuffers her to re⯑main quietly, in the Hands of her Raviſher, without endeavouring to reſcue her: But, Oh! too lovely, and unfortunate Fair-one, ſaid ſhe, as if ſhe had been preſent, and liſtening to her, [122] diſtinguiſh, I beſeech you, between thoſe Faults, which the Will, and thoſe which Neceſſity, makes us commit. I am the Cauſe, 'tis true, of thy Lover's Infidelity; but I am the innocent Cauſe; and would repair the Evils, my fatal Beauty gives Riſe to, by any Sacrifice in my Power to make.

While Arabella, by her romantic Genero⯑ſity, bewails the imaginary Afflictions of the full as imaginary Philonice; Mr. Glanville, who thought the Solitude ſhe lived in, confirmed her in her abſurd and ridiculous Notions, de⯑ſired his Father to preſs her to go to London.

Sir Charles complied with his Requeſt, and earneſtly intreated her to leave the Caſtle, and ſpend a few Months in Town. Her Year of Mourning being now expired, ſhe conſented to go; but Sir Charles, who did not think his Son's Health abſolutely confirmed, propoſed to ſpend a few Weeks at Bath; which was readi⯑ly complied with by Arabella.

CHAP. I.

SIR George, to gratify Arabella's Humour, had not preſumed to come to the Caſtle for ſeveral Days; but, hearing that they were preparing to leave the Country, he wrote a ſhort Billet to her; and in the Style of Romance, moſt humbly intreated her to grant him a Moment's Audience.

Arabella being informed by Lucy, to whom Sir George's Gentleman had addreſſed himſelf, that he had brought a Letter from his Maſter, ſhe [124] ordered her to bring him to her Apartment, and as ſoon as he appeared,

How comes it, ſaid ſhe, that the Prince your Maſter, has had the Preſumption to impor⯑tune me again, after my abſolute Commands to the contrary?

The Prince, my Maſter, Madam, ſaid the Man, exceſſively ſurpriſed.

Ay! ſaid Arabella, Are you not Sir George's 'Squire? And does he not truſt you with his moſt ſecret Thoughts?

I belong to Sir George Bellmour, Madam, replied the Man, who did not underſtand what She meant: I have not the Honour to be a 'Squire.

No! interrupted Arabella; 'tis ſtrange then, that he ſhould have honoured you with his Com⯑miſſion; Pray, what is it you come to requeſt for him?

My Maſter, Madam, ſaid he, ordered me to get this Letter delivered to your Ladyſhip, and to ſtay for your Commands.

You would perſuade me, ſaid ſhe, ſternly, being provoked that he did not deliver the Letter upon his Knees, as was the Cuſtom in Romances, that you are not acquainted with the Purport of this audacious Billet, ſince you expreſs ſo little Fear of my Diſpleaſure; but know, preſumptuous, that I am mortally offended with your Maſter, for his daring to ſuppoſe I would read this Proof at once of his Inſolence and Infidelity; and was you worth my Reſentment, I would haply make you ſuffer for your Want of Reſpect to me.

The poor Man, ſurpriſed and confounded at [125] her Anger, and puzzled extremely; to under⯑ſtand what ſhe meant, was opening his Mouth to ſay ſomething, 'tis probable in his own De⯑fence, when Arabella, preventing him,

I know what thou wouldſt ſay, ſaid ſhe: Thou wouldſt abuſe my Patience by a falſe Detail of thy Maſter's Sighs, Tears, Excla⯑mations, and Deſpair.

Indeed, Madam, I don't intend to ſay any ſuch Thing, replied the Man.

No! repeated Arabella, a little diſap⯑pointed, Bear back his preſumptuous Billet, which, I ſuppoſe, contains the melancholy Ac⯑count; and tell him, He that could ſo ſoon forget the generous Sydimiris for Philonice, and could afterwards be falſe to that incomparable Beauty, is not a Perſon worthy to adore Arabella.

The Man, who could not tell what to make of this Meſſage, and feared he ſhould forget theſe two hard Names, humbly intreated her to be pleaſed to acquaint his Maſter, by a Line, with her Intentions. Arabella, ſuppoſing he meant to importune her ſtill more, made a Sign with her Hand, very majeſtically, for him to be gone; but he, not able to compre⯑hend her Meaning, ſtood ſtill, with an Air of Perplexity, not daring to beg her to explain herſelf; ſuppoſing, ſhe, by that Sign, required ſomething of him.

Why doſt thou not obey my Commands? ſaid Arabella, finding he did not go.

I will, to be ſure, Madam, replied he; wiſhing at the ſame time ſecretly, ſhe would let him know what they were.

And yet, ſaid ſhe haſtily, thou art diſobey⯑ing [126] me this Moment: Did I not bid you get out of my Preſence, and to ſpeak no more of your inconſtant Maſter, whoſe Crimes have rendered him the Deteſtation of all generous Perſons whatever?

Sir George's Meſſenger, extremely ſurpriſed at ſo harſh a Character of his Maſter, and the Rage with which the Lady ſeemed to be actu⯑ated, made haſte to get out of her Apartment; and, at his Return, informed his Maſter, very exactly, of the Reception he had met with, repeating all Lady Bella's Words; which, not⯑withſtanding the Blunders he made in the Names of Sydimiris and Philonice, Sir George under⯑ſtood well enough; and found new Occaſion of wondering at the Exceſs of Arabella's Extrava⯑gance, who he never imagined would have ex⯑plained herſelf in that Manner to his Servant.

Without endeavouring therefore to ſee Ara⯑bella, he went to pay his Compliments to Sir Charles, Mr. Glanville, and Miſs Glanville; to the laſt of which he ſaid ſome ſoft things, that them her extremely regret his ſtaying behind made in the Country.

CHAP. II.

THE Day of their Departure being come, they ſet out in a Coach and Six, attended by ſeveral Servants on Horſeback. The Firſt [127] Day's Journey paſſed off, without any Acci⯑dent worthy relating; but, towards the Cloſe of the Second, they were alarmed by the Ap⯑pearance of three Highwaymen, well mounted, at a ſmall Diſtance.

One of the Servants, who had firſt ſpied them, immediately rode up to the Coach; and, for fear of alarming the Ladies, whiſpered Mr. Glanville in the Ear.

Sir Charles, who was ſitting next his Son, and had heard it, cried out with too little Caution, How's this? Are we in any Danger of being at⯑tacked, ſay you?

Mr. Glanville, without replying, jumped out of the Coach; at which Miſs Glanville ſcreamed out; and, leſt her Father ſhould fol⯑low, whipped into her Brother's Sear, and held him faſt by the Coat.

Arabella, being in a ſtrange Conſternation at all this, put her Head out of the Coach, to ſee what was the Matter; and, obſerving Three or Four Men of a genteel Appearance, on Horſe-back, who ſeemed to halt, and gaze on them▪ without offering to advance;

Sir, ſaid ſhe to her Uncle, are they yonder Knights whom you ſuppoſe will attack us?

Ay, ay, ſaid Sir Charles, they are Knights of the Road indeed: I ſuppoſe we ſhall have a Bout with them; for it will be ſcandalous to deliver, ſince we have the Odds of our Side, and are more than a Match for them.

Arabella, interpreting theſe Words in her own Way, looked out again; and, ſeeing the Robbers, who had by this time taken their Reſolution, galloping towards them, her Cou⯑ſin [128] and the Servants ranging themſelves of each Side of the Coach, as if to defend them,

Hold, hold, valiant Men, ſaid ſhe, as loud as ſhe could ſpeak, addreſſing herſelf to the Highwaymen; do not, by a miſtaken Genero⯑ſity, hazard your Lives in a Combat, to which the Laws of Honour do not oblige you: We are not violently carried away, as you falſly ſuppoſe; we go willingly along with theſe Per⯑ſons, who are our Friends and Relations.

Hey-day! cried Sir Charles, ſtarting at her with great Surprize; what's the Meaning of all this? Do you think theſe Fellows will mind your fine Speeches, Niece?

I hope they will, Sir, ſaid ſhe: Then, pulling her Couſin, ſhew yourſelf, for Heaven's Sake, Miſs, purſued ſhe, and ſecond my Aſſurances, that we are not forced away: Theſe generous Men come to fight for our Deliverance.

The Highwaymen, who were near enough to hear Arabella's Voice, though they could not diſtinguiſh her Words, gazed on her with great Surprize; and, finding they would be very well received, thought fit to abandon their En⯑terprize, and galloped away as faſt as they were able. Some of the Servants made a Motion to purſue them; but Mr. Glanville forbad it; and, entering again into the Coach, congratulated the Ladies upon the Eſcape they had.

Since theſe Men, ſaid Arabella, did not come to deliver us, out of a miſtaken Notion, that we were carried away by Force, it muſt ne⯑ceſſarily follow, they had ſome bad Deſign; and I proteſt I know not who to ſuſpect is the Au⯑thor of it, unleſs the Perſon you vanquiſhed, [129] ſaid ſhe to Mr. Glanville, the other Day in a ſingle Combat; for the diſguiſed Edward, you aſſured me, was dead: But perhaps, continued ſhe, it was ſome Lover of Miſs Glanville's, who deſigned to make an Attempt to carry her away: Methinks he was too ſlenderly attended for ſuch an hazardous Undertaking.

I'll aſſure you Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville, I have no Lovers among Highwaymen.

Highwaymen! repeated Arabella.

Why, ay, to be ſure, Madam, rejoined Sir Charles: What do you take them for?

For Perſons of Quality, Sir, reſumed Ara⯑bella; and though they came queſtionleſs, either upon a good or bad Deſign, yet it cannot be doubted, but that their Birth is illuſtrious; otherwiſe they would never pretend either to fight in our Defence, or to carry us away.

I vow, Niece, ſaid Sir Charles, I can't poſſi⯑bly underſtand you.

My Couſin, Sir, interrupted Mr. Glanville, has been miſtaken in theſe Perſons; and has not yet, poſſibly, believed them to be Highwaymen, who came to rob us.

There is no Queſtion, Sir, ſaid Arabella, ſmiling, that if they did not come to defend us, they came to rob you: But it is hard to gueſs, which of us it was of whom they de⯑ſigned to deprive you; for it may very poſſibly be for my Couſin's fake, as well as mine, that this Enterprize was undertaken.

Pardon me, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville, who was willing to prevent his Father from an⯑ſwering her Abſurdities; theſe Men had no other Deſign, than to rob us of our Money.

[130] How! ſaid Arabella: Were theſe Cavaliers▪ who appeared to be in ſo handſome a Garb, that I took them for Perſons of prime Quality, were they Robbers? I have been ſtrangely miſ⯑taken, it ſeems: However, I apprehend there is no Certainty, that your Suſpicions are true; and it may ſtill be as I ſay, that they either came to reſcue or carry us away.

Mr. Glanville, to avoid a longer Diſpute, changed the Diſcourſe; having obſerved with Confuſion, that Sir Charles, and his Siſter, ſeem⯑ed to look upon his beloved Couſin as one that was out of her Senſs.

CHAP. III.

ARABELLA, during the reſt of this Jour⯑ney, was ſo wholly taken up in contem⯑plating upon the laſt Adventure, that ſhe mixed but little in the Converſation. Upon their drawing near Bath, the Situation of that City afforded her the Means of making a Com⯑pariſon between the Valley in which it was placed (with the Amphitheatrical View of the Hills around it) and the Valley of Tempe.

'Twas in ſuch a Place as this, ſaid ſhe, pur⯑ſuing her Compariſon, that the fair Andronice delivered the valiant Hortenſius: And really I could wiſh, our Entrance into that City might [131] be preceded by an Act of equal Humanity with that of that fair Princeſs.

For the Gratification of that Wiſh, Madam, ſid Mr. Glanville, it is neceſſary ſome Perſon ſhould meet with a Misfortune, out of which you might be able to relieve him; but I ſuppoſe the Benevolence of your Diſpoſition may be equally ſatisfied with not finding any Occaſion, as of exerciſing it, when it is found.

Though it be not my Fortune to meet with thoſe Occaſions, replied Arabella, there is no Reaſon to doubt but others do, who poſſibly have leſs Inclination to afford their Aſſiſtance than myſelf: And it is poſſible, if any other than the Princeſs of Meſſina had happened to paſs by, when Hortenſius was in the Hands of the Theſſalians, he would not have been reſ⯑cued from the ignominious Death he was de⯑ſtined to, merely for killing a Stork.

How! interrupted Sir Charles, put a Man to Death for killing a Stork! Ridiculous! Pray, in what Part of the World did that happen? Among the Indians of America, I ſuppoſe.

No, Sir, ſaid Arabella, in Theſſaly; the faireſt Part in all Macedonia, famous for the beautiful Valley of Tempe, which excited the Curioſity of all Travellers whatever.

No, not all, Madam, returned Sir Charles▪ for I am acquainted with ſeveral Travellers, who never ſaw it, nor even mentioned it; and if it is ſo famous as you ſay, I am ſurpriſed I never heard of it before.

I don't know, ſaid Arabélla, what thoſe Tra⯑vellers thought worthy of their Notice; but I am certain, that if any Chance ſhould conduct [132] me into Macedonia, I would not leave it till I ſaw the Valley of Tempe, ſo celebrated by all the Poets and Hiſtorians.

Dear Couſin, cried Glanville, who could hardly forbear ſmiling, what Chance, in the Name of Wonder, ſhould take you into Ma⯑cedonia, at ſo great a Diſtance from your own Country?

And ſo, ſaid Sir Charles, this famous Valley of Tempe is in Turky. Why you muſt be very fond of travelling, indeed, Lady Bella, if you would go into the Great Mogul's Country, where the People are all Pagans, they ſay, and worſhip the Devil.

The Country my Couſin ſpeaks of, ſaid Mr. Glanville, is in the Grand Signor's Domi⯑nions: The Great Mogul, you know, Sir—

Well, interrupted Sir Charles, the Great Mogul, or the Grand Signor, I know not what you call him: But I hope my Niece does not propoſe to go thither.

Not unleſs I am forcibly carried thither, ſaid Arabella; but I do determine, if that Misfor⯑tune ſhould ever happen to me, that I would, if poſſible, viſit the Vale of Tempe, which is in that Part of Greece they call Macedonia.

Then I am perſuaded, replied Sir Charles, you'll never ſee that famous Valley you talk of; for it is not very likely you ſhould be forcibly carried away into Turky.

And why do you think it unlikely, that I ſhould be carried thither? interrupted Arabella. Do not the ſame Things happen now, that did formerly? And is any thing more common, then Ladies being carried, by their Raviſhers, [133] into Countries far diſtant from their own? May not the ſame Accidents happen to me, that have happened to ſo many illuſtrious Ladies before me? And may I not be carried into Macedonia by a Similitude of Deſtiny with that of a great many beautiful Princeſſes, who, though born in the moſt diſtant Quarters of the World, chanced to meet at one time in the City of Alexandria, and related their miraculous Adventures to each other?

And it was for that very Purpoſe they met, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville, ſmiling.

Why, truly, ſaid Arabella, it happened very luckily for each of them, that they were brought into a Place where they found ſo many illuſtrious Companions in Misfortune, to whom they might freely communicate their Adven⯑tures, which otherwiſe might, haply, have been concealed, or, at leaſt, have been imperfectly delivered down to us: However, added ſhe, ſmiling, if I am carried into Macedonia, and by that means have an Opportunity of viſit⯑ing the famous Vale of Tempe, I ſhall take care not to draw the Reſentment of the Theſſalians upon me, by an Indiſcretion like that of Hor⯑tenſius.

For be pleaſed to know, Sir, ſaid ſhe, ad⯑dreſſing herſelf to her Uncle, that his killing a Stork, however inconſiderable a Matter it may appear to us, was yet looked upon as a Crime of a very atrocious Nature among the Theſ⯑ſalians; for they have a Law, which forbids, upon Pain of Death, the killing of Storks; the Reaſon for which is, that Theſſaly being ſub⯑ject to be infeſted with a prodigious Multitude [134] of Serpents, which are a delightful Food to theſe Sorts of Fowls, they look upon them as ſacred Birds, ſent by the Gods to deliver them from theſe Serpents and Vipers: And though Hortenſius, being a Stranger, was pardoned through the Interceſſion of the Princeſs Andro⯑nice, they made him promiſe to ſend another Stork into Theſſaly, to the end that he might be reputed innocent.

CHAP. IV.

THIS Piece of Hiſtory, with Sir Charles's Remarks upon it, brought them into Bath. Their Lodgings being provided before⯑hand, the Ladies retired to their different Cham⯑bers, to repoſe themſelves after the Fatigue of their Journey, and did not meet again till Supper was on Table; when Miſs Glan⯑ville, who had eagerly enquired what Company was then in the Place, and heard there were a great many Perſons of Faſhion juſt arrived, preſt Arabella to go to the Pump-Room the next Morning, aſſuring her ſhe would find a very agreeable Amuſement.

Arabella accordingly conſented to accompany her; and, being told the Ladies went in an Un⯑dreſs of a Morning, ſhe accommodated herſelf to the Cuſtom, and went in a negligent Dreſs; but inſtead of a Capuchin, ſhe were ſomething [135] like a Veil, of black Gauze, which covered almoſt all her Face, and Part of her Waiſt, and gave her a very ſingular Appearance.

Miſs Glanville was too envious of her Cou⯑ſin's Superiority in point of Beauty, to inform her of any Oddity in her Dreſs, which ſhe thought might expoſe her to the Ridicule of thoſe that ſaw her; and Mr. Glanville was too little a Critic in Ladies Apparel, to be ſenſible that Arabella was not in the Faſhion; and ſince every thing ſhe wore became her extremely, he could not chooſe but think ſhe dreſt ad⯑mirably well: He handed her therefore, with a great deal of Satisfaction, into the Pump-Room, which happened to be greatly crouded that Morning.

The Attention of moſt Part of the Compa⯑ny was immediately engaged by the Appear⯑ance Lady Bella made. Strangers are here moſt ſtrictly criticized, and every new Object affords a delicious Feaſt of Raillery and Scandal.

The Ladies, alarmed at the Singularity of her Dreſs, crouded together in Parties; and the Words, Who can ſhe be? Strange Crea⯑ture! Ridiculous! and other Exclamations of the ſame Kind, were whiſpered very intelli⯑gibly.

The Men were ſtruck with her Figure, veiled as ſhe was: Her fine Stature, the beauti⯑ful Turn of her Perſon, the Grace and Ele⯑gance of her Motion, attracted all their No⯑tice: The Phaenomena of the Veil, however, gave them great Diſturbance. So lovely a Per⯑ſon ſeemed to promiſe the Owner had a Face not unworthy of it; but that was totally hid [136] from their View: For Arabella, at her En⯑trance into the Room, had pulled the Gauze quite over her Face, following therein the Cuſ⯑tom of the Ladies in Clelia, and the Grand Cy⯑rus, who, in mixed Companies, always hid their Faces with great Care.

The Wits, and Pretty-Fellows, railed at the envious Covering, and compared her to the Sun obſcured by a Cloud; while the Beaux dem'd the horrid Innovation, and expreſſed a Fear, leſt it ſhould grow into a Faſhion.

Some of the wiſer Sort took her for a Fo⯑reigner; others, of ſtill more Sagacity, ſuppoſed her a Scots Lady, covered with her Plaid; and a third Sort, infinitely wiſer than either, con⯑cluded ſhe was a Spaniſh Nun, that had eſcaped from a Convent, and had not yet quitted her Veil.

Arabella, ignorant of the Diverſity of Opi⯑nions, to which her Appearance gave Riſe, was taken up in diſcourſing with Mr. Glanville upon the medicinal Virtue of the Springs, the Oeconomy of the Baths, the Nature of the Diverſions, and ſuch other Topics, as the Objects around them furniſhed her with.

In the mean time, Miſs Glanville was got amidſt a Croud of her Acquaintance, who had hardly paid the Civilities of a firſt Meeting, be⯑fore they eagerly inquired, who that Lady ſhe brought with her was.

Miſs Glanville informed them, that ſhe was her Couſin, and Daughter to the deceaſed Mar⯑quis of—adding with a Sneer, That ſhe had been brought up in the Country; knew nothing of the World; and had ſome very peculiar No⯑tions, [137] as you may ſee, ſaid ſhe, by that odd kind of Covering ſhe wears.

Her Name and Quality were preſently whiſ⯑pered all over the Room: The Men, hearing ſhe was a great Heireſs, found greater Beauties to admire in her Perſon: The Ladies, aw'd by the Sanction of Quality, dropt their Ridi⯑cule on her Dreſs, and began to quote Exam⯑ples of Whims full as inexcuſable.

One remembred, that Lady J—T— al⯑always wore her Ruffles reverſed; that the Counteſs of—went to Court in a Far⯑thingale; that the Ducheſs of—ſat aſtride upon a Horſe; and a certain Lady of great Fortune, and nearly allied to Quality, becauſe ſhe was not dignified with a Title, invented a new one for herſelf; and directed her Servants to ſay in ſpeaking to her, Your Honoureſs, which afterwards became a Cuſtom among all her Ac⯑quaintance; who mortally offended her, if they omitted that Inſtance of Reſpect.

CHAP. V.

AFTER a ſhort Stay in the Room, Ara⯑bella expreſſing a Deſire to return home, Mr. Glanville conducted her out. Two Gentle⯑men of his Acquaintance attending Miſs Glan⯑ville, [138] Sir, Charles detained them to Breakfaſt; by which means they had an Opportunity of ſatisfying their Curioſity; and beheld Arabella, diveſted of that Veil, which had, as they ſaid; and 'tis probable they ſaid no more than they thought, concealed one of the fineſt Faces in the World.

Miſs Glanville had the Mortification to ſee both the Gentlemen ſo charmed with the Sight of her Couſin's Face, that for a long time ſhe ſat wholly neglected; but the Seriouſneſs of her Behaviour, giving ſome little Diſguſt to the youngeſt of them, who was what the Ladies call a Pretty-Fellow, a dear Creature, and the moſt diverting Man in the World; he applied himſelf wholly to Miſs Glanville, and ſoon en⯑gaged her in a particular Converſation.

Mr. Selvin, ſo was the other Gentleman called, was of a much graver Caſt: He affected to be thought deep-read in Hiſtory, and never failed to take all Opportunities of diſplaying his Knowlege of Antiquity, which was indeed but very ſuperficial; but having ſome few Anec⯑dotes by Heart, which he would take Occa⯑tion to introduce as often as he could, he paſſed among many Perſons for one, who, by Appli⯑cation and Study, had acquired an univerſal Knowlege of antient Hiſtory.

Speaking of any particular Circumſtance, he would fix the Time, by computing the Year with the Number of the Olympiads.

It happened, he would ſay, in the 141ſt Olympiad.

Such an amazing Exactneſs, had a ſuitable [139] Effect on his Audience, and always procured him a great Degree of Attention.

This Gentleman hitherto had no Opportu⯑nity of diſplaying his Knowledge of Hiſtory, the Diſcourſe having wholly turned upon News, and other Trifles; when Arabella, after ſome more Inquiries concerning the Place, remark⯑ed, that there was a very great Difference be⯑tween the medicinal Waters at Bath, and the fine Springs at the Foot of the Mountain Ther⯑mopylae in Greece, as well in their Qualities, as manner of uſing them; and I am of Opinion, added ſhe, that Bath, famous as it is for re⯑ſtoring Health, is leſs frequented by infirm Perſons, than the famous Springs of Thermopylae were by the Beauties of Greece, to whom thoſe Waters have the Reputation of giving new Luſtre.

Mr. Selvin, who, with all his Reading, had never met with any Account of theſe celebrated Grecian Springs, was extremely diſconcerted at not being able to continue a Converſation, which the Silence of the reſt of the Company made him imagine, was directed wholly to him.

The Shame he conceived at ſeeing himſelf poſed by a Girl, in a Matter which ſo imme⯑diately belonged to him, made him reſolve to draw himſelf out of this Dilemma at any Rate; aud, though he was far from being convinced, that there were no ſuch Springs at Thermopylae as Arabella mentioned; yet he reſolutely main⯑tained, that ſhe muſt be miſtaken in their Situa⯑tion; for, to his certain Knowlege, there were [140] no medicinal Waters at the Foot of that Moun⯑tain.

Arabella, who could not endure to be con⯑tradicted in what ſhe took to be ſo inconteſt⯑able a Fact, reddened with Vexation at his un⯑expected Denial.

It ſhould ſeem, ſaid ſhe, by your Diſcourſe, that you are unacquainted with many material Paſſages, that paſſed among very illuſtrious Perſons there; and if you knew any thing of Piſiſtratus the Athenian, you would know, that an Adventure he had at thoſe Baths, laid the Foundation of all thoſe great Deſigns, which he afterwards effected, to the total Subverſion of the Athenian Government.

Mr. Selvin, ſurpriſed that this Piece of Hi⯑ſtory had likewiſe eſcaped his Obſervation, re⯑ſolved, however, not to give up his Point.

I think, Madam, replied he, with great Self-ſufficiency, that I am pretty well acquaint⯑ed with every thing which relates to the Af⯑fairs of the Athenian Commonwealth; and know by what Steps Piſiſtratus advanced himſelf to the Sovereignty. It was a great Stroke of Po⯑licy in him, ſaid he, turning to Mr. Glanville, indeed, to wound himſelf, in order to get a Guard aſſigned him.

You are miſtaken, Sir, ſaid Arabella, if you believe, there was any Truth in the Report of his having wounded himſelf: It was done, either by his Rival Lycurgus or Theocrites; who be⯑lieving him ſtill to be in Love with the fair Cerinthe, whom he courted, took that Way to get rid of him: Neither is it true, that Am⯑bition alone inſpired Piſiſtratus with a Deſign of [141] enſlaving his Country: Thoſe Authors who ſay ſo, muſt know little of the Springs and Motives of his Conduct. It was neither Ambition nor Revenge, that made him act as he did; it was the violent Affection he conceived for the beau⯑tiful Chorante, whom he firſt ſaw at the famous Baths of Thermopylae, which put him upon thoſe Deſigns; for, ſeeing that Lycurgus, who was not his Rival in Ambition, but Love, would certainly become the Poſſeſſor of Chorante, un⯑leſs he made himſelf Tyrant of Athens, he had recourſe to that violent Method, in order to preſerve her for himſelf.

I proteſt, Madam, ſaid Mr. Selvin, caſting down his Eyes in great Confuſion at her ſu⯑perior Knowlege in Hiſtory, theſe Particu⯑lars have all eſcaped my Notice; and this is the firſt time I ever underſtood, that Piſiſtratus was violently in Love; and that it was not Ambi⯑tion, which made him aſpire to Sovereignty.

I do not remember any Mention of this in Plutarch, continued he, rubbing his Forehead, or any of the Authors who have treated on the Affairs of Greece.

Very likely, Sir, replied Arabella; but you will ſee the whole Story of Piſiſtratus's Love for Chorante, with the Effects it produced, re⯑lated at large in Scudery.

Scudery, Madam! ſaid the ſage Mr. Selvin, I never read that Hiſtorian.

No, Sir! replied Arabella, then your Read⯑ing has been very confined.

I know, Madam, ſaid he, that Herodotus, Thucydides, and Plutarch, have indeed quoted him frequently.

[142] I am ſurpriſed, Sir, ſaid Mr. Glanville, who was exceſſively diverted at this Diſcovery of his great Ignorance and Affectation, that you have not read that famous Hiſtorian; eſpecially, as the Writers you have mentioned quote him ſo often.

Why, to tell you the Truth, Sir, ſaid he; though he was a Roman; yet it is objected to him, that he wrote but indifferent Latin; with no Purity or Elegance; and—

You are quite miſtaken, Sir, interrupted Arabella; the great Scudery was a Frenchman; and both his Clelia and Artamenes were written in French.

A Frenchman was he? ſaid Mr. Selvin, with a lofty Air: Oh! then, 'tis not ſurpriſing, that I have not read him: I read no Authors, but the Antients, Madam, added he, with a Look of Self-applauſe; I cannot reliſh the Mo⯑derns at all: I have no Taſte for their Way of Writing.

But Scudery muſt needs be more ancient than Thucydides, and the reſt of thoſe Greek Hiſtorians you mentioned, ſaid Mr. Glanville: How elſe could they quote him?

Mr. Selvin was here ſo utterly at a Loſs, that he could not conceal his Confuſion: He held down his Head, and continued ſilent; while the Beau, who had liſtened to the latter Part of their Diſcourſe; exerted his ſuppoſed Talent of Raillery againſt the unhappy Admirer of the antient Authors; and increaſed his Confuſion by a thouſand Sarcaſms, which gave more Di⯑verſion to himſelf, than any body elſe.

CHAP. VI.

MR. Glanville, who had too much Polite⯑neſs and Good nature to inſiſt too long upon the Ridicule in the Character of his Ac⯑quaintance, changed the Diſcourſe: And Ara⯑bella, who had obſerved, with ſome Concern, the ill-judged Raillery of the young Beau, took Occaſion to decry that Species of Wit; and gave it as her Opinion, that it was very dan⯑gerous and unpleaſing.

For, truly, ſaid ſhe, it is almoſt impoſſible to uſe it without being hated or feared: and whoever gets a Habit of it, is in Danger of wronging all the Laws of Friendſhip and Hu⯑manity.

Certainly, purſued ſhe, looking at the Beau, it is extremely unjuſt to railly one's Friends, and particular Acquaintance: Firſt, chooſe them well, and be as nice as you pleaſe in the Choice; but when you have choſen them, by no means play upon them: 'Tis cruel and malicious, to di⯑vert one's ſelf at the Expence of one's Friend.

However, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville, who was charmed to hear her talk ſo rationally, you may give People Leave to railly their Ene⯑mies.

Truly, reſumed Arabella, I cannot allow that, any more than upon Friends; for Raillery is the pooreſt kind of Revenge that can be taken: [144] Methinks, it is mean to railly Perſons who have a ſmall Share of Merit; ſince, haply, their Defects were born with them, and not of their own acquiring; and it is great Injuſtice to deſ⯑cant upon one ſlight Fault in Men of Parts, to the Prejudice of a thouſand good Qualities.

For aught I ſee, Madam, ſaid the Beau, you will not allow one to railly any body.

I am of Opinion, Sir, ſaid Arabella, that there are very few proper Objects for Raillery; and ſtill fewer, who can railly well: The Ta⯑lent of Raillery ought to be born with a Per⯑ſon; no Art can infuſe it; and thoſe who en⯑deavour to railly in ſpite of Nature, will be ſo far from diverting others, that they will become the Objects of Ridicule themſelves.

Many other pleaſing Qualities of Wit may be acquired by Pains and Study, but Raillery muſt be the Gift of Nature: It is not enough to have many lively and agreeable Thoughts; but there muſt be ſuch an Expreſſion, as muſt convey their full Force and Meaning; the Air the Aſpect, the Tone of the Voice, and every Part in general, muſt contribute to its Perfection.

There ought alſo to be a great Diſtance be⯑tween Raillery and Satire, ſo that one may ne⯑ver be miſtaken for the other: Raillery ought indeed to ſurpriſe, and ſenſibly touch, thoſe to whom it is directed; but I would not have the Wounds it makes, either deep or laſting: Let thoſe who feel it, be hurt like Perſons, who, gathering Roſes, are pricked by the Thorns, and find a ſweet Smoll to make amends.

[145] I would have Raillery raiſe the Fancy, and quicken the Imagination, the Fire of its Wit ſhould only enable us to trace its Original, and ſhine as the Stars do, but not burn. Yet, after all, I cannot greatly approve of Raillery, or ceaſe to think it dangerous; and, to purſue my Compariſon, ſaid ſhe, with an inchanting Smile, Perſons who poſſeſs the true Talent of Raillery, are like Comets; they are ſeldom ſeen, and are at once admir'd and fear'd.

I proteſt, Lady Bella, ſaid Sir Charles, who had liſten'd to her with many Signs of Admi⯑ration, you ſpeak like an Orator.

One would not imagine, interrupted Mr. Glanville, who ſaw Arabella in ſome Confuſion at the coarſe Praiſe her Uncle gave her, that my Couſin could ſpeak ſo accurately of a Qua⯑lity ſhe never practiſes: And 'tis eaſy to judge by what ſhe has ſaid, that no body can railly finer than herſelf, if ſhe pleaſes.

Mr. Selvin, tho' he bore her a Grudge for knowing more Hiſtory than he did, yet aſſur'd her, that ſhe had given the beſt Rules imagin⯑able for raillying well. But the Beau, whom ſhe had ſilenc'd by her Reproof, was extremely angry; and, ſuppoſing it would mortify her to ſee him pay Court to her Couſin, he redoubled his Aſſiduities to Miſs Glanville, who was highly delighted at ſeeing Arabella leſs taken Notice of by this gay Gentleman, than herſelf.

CHAP. VII.

THE Indifference of Mr. Tinſel, convin⯑cing Miſs Glanville, that Arabella was leſs to be dreaded than ſhe imagin'd, ſhe had no Reluctance at ſeeing her prepare for her publick Appearance the next Ball Night.

Having conſulted her Fancy in a rich Silver Stuff, ſhe had bought for that Purpoſe, a Perſon was ſent for to make it; and Arabella, who follow'd no Faſhion but her own Taſte, which was form'd on the Manners of the Heroines, order'd the Woman to make her a Robe after the ſame Model as the Princeſs Julia's.

The Mantua-maker, who thought it might do her great Prejudice with her new Cuſtomer, to acknowledge ſhe knew nothing of the Prin⯑ceſs Julia, or the Faſhion of her Gown, replied at Random, and with great Pertneſs,

That, that Taſte was quite out; and, ſhe would adviſe her Ladyſhip to have her Cloaths made in the preſent Mode, which was far more becoming.

You can never perſuade me, ſaid Arabella, that any Faſhion can be more becoming than that of the Princeſs Julia's, who was the moſt gallant Princeſs upon Earth, and knew better than any other, how to ſet off her Charms. It may indeed be a little obſelete now, purſued [147] ſhe, for the Faſhion could not but alter a little in the Compaſs of near two thouſand Years.

Two thouſand Years! Madam, ſaid the Wo⯑man, in a great Surprize; Lord help us Trades-people, if they did not alter a thouſand Times in as many Days! I thought your Ladyſhip was ſpeaking of the laſt Month's Taſte; which, as I ſaid before, is quite out now.

Well, replied Arabella, let the preſent Mode be what it will, I inſiſt upon having my Cloaths made after the Pattern of the beautiful Daugh⯑ter of Auguſtus; being convinced, that none other can be half ſo becoming.

What Faſhion was that, pray, Madam, ſaid the Woman? I never ſaw it.

How, replied Arabella, Have you already for⯑got the Faſhion of the Princeſs Julia's Robe, which you ſaid was wore but laſt Month? Or, are you ignorant that the Princeſs Julia, and the Daughter of Auguſtus, is the ſame Perſon?

I proteſt, Madam, ſaid the Woman, ex⯑tremely confus'd, I had forgot that, till you called it to my Mind.

Well, ſaid Arabella, make me a Robe in the ſame Taſte.

The Mantua-maker was now wholly at a Loſs in what Manner to behave; for, being conſcious that ſhe knew nothing of the Princeſs Julia's Faſhion, ſhe could not undertake to make it without Directions; and ſhe was afraid of diſcovering her Ignorance by asking for any; ſo that her Silence and Embarraſſment perſua⯑ding Arabella ſhe knew nothing of the Matter, ſhe diſmiſt her with a ſmall Preſent, for the Trouble ſhe had given her, and had Recourſe [148] to her uſual Expedient, which was, to make one of her Women, who underſtood a little of the Mantua-making Buſineſs, make a Robe for her, after her own Directions.

Miſs Glanville, who imagin'd ſhe had ſent for Work-women, in order to have Cloaths made in the modern Taſte, was ſurpriz'd at her Entrance into her Chamber, to ſee her dreſſing for the Ball, in a Habit ſingular to the laſt Degree.

She wore no Hoop, and the Blue and Silver Stuff of her Robe, was only kept by its own Richneſs, from hanging cloſe about her. It was quite open round her Breaſt, which was ſhaded with a rich Border of Lace; and claſp⯑ing cloſe to her Waiſt, by ſmall Knots of Dia⯑monds, deſcended in a ſweeping Train on the Ground.

The Sleeves were ſhort, wide, and ſlaſh'd, faſtned in different Places with Diamonds, and her Arms were partly hid by half a Dozen Falls of Ruffles. Her Hair, which fell in very eaſy Ringlets on her Neck, was plac'd with great Care and Exactneſs round her lovely Face; and the Jewels and Ribbons, which were all her Head-dreſs, diſpos'd to the greateſt Advantage.

Upon the whole, nothing could be more ſin⯑gularly becoming than her Dreſs; or ſet off with greater Advantage the ſtriking Beauties of her Perſon.

Miſs Glanville, tho' ſhe was not diſpleas'd to ſee her perſiſt in her Singularity of Dreſs; yet could not behold her look ſo lovely in it, with⯑out feeling a ſecret Uneaſineſs; but conſoling herſelf with the Hopes of the Ridicule ſhe [149] would occaſion, ſhe aſſum'd a chearful Air, approv'd her Taſte in the Choice of her Co⯑lours, and went with her at the uſual Hour, to the Rooms, attended by Mr. Glanville, Mr. Selvin, and the young Beau we have for⯑merly mention'd.

The Surprize Arabella's unuſual Appearance gave to the whole Company, was very viſible to every one but herſelf.

The Moment ſhe enter'd the Room, every one whiſper'd the Perſon next to them; and for ſome Moments, nothing was heard but the Words, the Princeſs Julia; which was eccho'd at every Corner, and at laſt attracted her Ob⯑ſervation.

Mr. Glanville, and the reſt of the Company with her, were in ſome Confuſion at the uni⯑verſal Exclamation, which they imagin'd was occaſion'd by the Singularity of her Habit; tho' they could not conceive, why they gave her that Title. Had they known the Adven⯑ture of the Mantua-maker, it would doubtleſs have eaſily occurr'd to them; for the Woman had no ſooner left Arabella, than ſhe related the Conference ſhe had with a Lady newly ar⯑riv'd, who had requir'd her to make a Robe in the Manner of the Princeſs Julia's; and diſ⯑miſs'd her, becauſe ſhe did not underſtand the Faſhions that prevail'd two thouſand Years ago.

This Story was quickly diſpers'd, and for its Novelty, afforded a great deal of Diverſion; every one long'd to ſee a Faſhion of ſuch An⯑tiquity; and expected the Appearance of the Princeſs Julia with great Impatience.

[150] It is not to be doubted but much Mirth was treaſur'd up for her Appearance; and the occa⯑ſional Humouriſt had already prepared his ac⯑cuſtom'd Jeſt, when the Sight of the devoted fair One repell'd his Vivacity, and the deſign'd Ridicule of the whole Aſſembly.

Scarce had the firſt tumultous Whiſper eſcap'd the Lips of each Individual, when they found themſelves aw'd to Reſpect by that irreſiſtable Charm in the Perſon of Arabella, which com⯑manded Reverence and Love from all who be⯑held her.

Her noble Air, the native Dignity in her Looks, the inexpreſſible Grace which accom⯑pany'd all her Motions, and the conſummate Lovelineſs of her Form, drew the Admiration of the whole Aſſembly.

A reſpectful Silence ſucceeded, and the Aſto⯑niſhment her Beauty occaſion'd, left them no Room to deſcant on the Abſurdity of her Dreſs.

Miſs Glanville, who felt a malicious Joy at the Sneers ſhe expected would be caſt on her Couſin, was greatly diſappointed at the Defer⯑ence which ſeem'd to be paid her; and to vent ſome Part of her Spleen, took occaſion to men⯑tion her Surprize, at the Behaviour of the Company on their Entrance; wondering what they could mean by whiſpering the Princeſs Julia to one another.

I aſſure you, ſaid Arabella, ſmiling, I am not leſs ſurpriz'd than you at it; and ſince they di⯑rected their Looks to me at the ſame Time, I fancy they either took me for ſome Princeſs of the Name of Julia, who is expected here to-Night, [151] or elſe flatter me with ſome Reſem⯑blance to the beautiful Daughter of Auguſtus.

The Compariſon, Madam, ſaid Mr. Selvin, who took all Occaſions to ſhew his Reading, is too injurious to you, for I am of Opinion you as much excel that licentious Lady in the Beau⯑ties of your Perſon, as you do in the Qualities of your Mind.

I never heard Licentiouſneſs imputed to the Daughter of Auguſtus Caeſar, ſaid Arabella; and the moſt her Enemies can ſay of her, is, that ſhe loved Admiration, and would permit herſelf to be beloved, and to be told ſo, with⯑out ſhewing any Signs of Diſpleaſure.

Bleſs me, Madam, interrupted Mr. Selvin, how ſtrangely do you miſtake the Character of Julia: Tho' the Daughter of an Emperor, ſhe was, pardon the Expreſſion, the moſt aban⯑don'd Proſtitute in Rome; many of her Intrigues are recorded in Hiſtory; but to mention only one, Was not her infamous Commerce with Ovid, the Cauſe of his Baniſhment?

CHAP. VIII.

YOU ſpeak in ſtrange Terms, replied Ara⯑bella, bluſhing, of a Princeſs, who if ſhe was not the moſt reſerv'd and ſevere Perſon in the World, was yet nevertheleſs, abſolutely chaſte.

[152] I know there were People who repreſented her Partiality for Ovid in a very unfavourable Light; but that ingenious Poet, when he re⯑lated his Hiſtory to the great Agrippa, told him in Confidence all that had paſs'd between him and the Princeſs Julia, than which nothing could be more innocent tho' a little indiſcreet. For, 'tis certain that ſhe permitted him to love her, and did not condemn him to any rigorous Puniſhment for daring to tell her ſo; yet, for all this, as I ſaid before, tho' ſhe was not alto⯑gether ſo auſtere as ſhe ought to have been, yet ſhe was nevertheleſs a moſt virtuous Princeſs.

Mr. Selvin, not daring to contradict a Lady whoſe extenſive Reading had furniſh'd her with Anecdotes unknown almoſt to any Body elſe, by his Silence confeſs'd her Superiority. But Mr. Glanville, who knew all theſe Anecdotes were drawn from Romances, which he found contradicted the known Facts in Hiſtory, and aſſign'd the moſt ridiculous Cauſes for Things of the greateſt Importance; could not help ſmiling at the Facility with which Mr. Selvin gave into thoſe idle Abſurdities. For notwith⯑ſtanding his Affectation of great Reading, his ſuperficial Knowledge of Hiſtory made it ex⯑tremely eaſy to deceive him; and as it was his Cuſtom to mark in his Pocket-Book all the Scraps of Hiſtory he heard introduced into Con⯑verſation, and retail them again in other Com⯑pany; he did not doubt but he would make a Figure with the curious Circumſtances Arabella had furniſh'd him with.

Arabella obſerving Mr. Tinſel by his familiar Bows, ſignificant Smiles, and eaſy Salutations, [153] was acquainted with the greateſt Part of the Aſſembly, told him, that ſhe did not doubt but he knew the Adventures of many Perſons whom they were viewing; and that he would do her a Pleaſure, if he would relate ſome of them.

Mr. Tinſel was charm'd with a Requeſt which afforded him an Opportunity of gratifying a fa⯑vourite Inclination, and ſeating himſelf near her immediately, was beginning to obey her Injunctions, when ſhe gracefully intreated him to ſtay a Moment; and calling to Mr. Glanville and his Siſter, who were talking to Mr. Selvin, ask'd them if they choſe to partake of a more rational Amuſement than Dancing, and liſten to the Adventures of ſome illuſtrious Perſons, which Mr. Tinſel had promis'd to relate.

I aſſure you, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville, ſmiling, you will find that a leſs innocent Amuſement than Dancing.

Why ſo, Sir, replied Arabella, ſince it is not an indiſcreet Curioſity which prompts me to a Deſire of hearing the Hiſtories Mr. Tinſel has promis'd to entertain me with; but rather a Hope of hearing ſomething which may at once improve and delight me; ſomething which may excite my Admiration, engage my Eſteem, or influence my Practice.

'Twas doubtleſs, with ſuch Motives as theſe, that we find Princeſſes and Ladies of the moſt illuſtrious Rank, in Clelia and the Grand Cyrus, liſtning to the Adventures of Perſons, in whom they were probably as little intereſted, as we are in theſe around us. Kings, Princes, and Commanders of Armies, thought it was no Waſte of their Time, in the midſt of the [154] Hurry and Clamour of a Camp, to liſten many Hours to the Relation of one ſingle Hiſtory, and not fill'd with any extraordinary Events; but haply a ſimple Recital of common Occur⯑rences: The great Cyrus, while he was buſy in reducing all Aſia to his Yoke, heard never⯑theleſs, the Hiſtories of all the conſiderable Per⯑ſons in the Camp, beſides thoſe of Strangers, and even his Enemies. If there was therefore any thing either criminal or mean, in hearing the Adventures of others, do you imagine ſo many great and illuſtrious Perſons would have given in to ſuch an Amuſement?

After this Arabella turn'd gravely about to Mr. Tinſel, and told him, he was at Liberty to begin his Recital.

The Beau, a little diſconcerted by the So⯑lemnity with which ſhe requeſted his Informa⯑tion, knew not how to begin with the Forma⯑lity that he ſaw was required of him; and therefore fat ſilent for a few Moments; which Arabella ſuppos'd was to recall to his Memory all the Paſſages he propos'd to relate.

His Perplexity would probably have increas'd inſtead of leſſening by the profound Silence which ſhe obſerved, had not Miſs Glanville ſeated herſelf with a ſprightly Air on the other Side of him, and directing his Eyes to a tall handſome Woman that had juſt enter'd, ask'd him pleaſantly, to tell her Hiſtory if he knew it.

Mr. Tinſel, brought into his uſual Track by this Queſtion, anſwer'd ſmiling, That the Hi⯑ſtory of that Lady was yet a Secret, or known but to very few; but my Intelligence, added [155] he, is generally the [...], and may always be depended on.

Perhaps, ſaid [...] the Lady is one of your Acquaintances, [...] you with the Re⯑cital of her [...] from her own Mouth.

No, really, Madam, anſwer'd Mr. Tinſel, ſurpriz'd at the great Simplicity of Arabella, for ſo he underſtood it; the Lady, I believe, is not ſo communicative: And to ſay the Truth, I ſhould not chuſe to hear her Adventures from herſelf, ſince ſhe certainly would ſuppreſs the moſt material Circumſtances.

In a Word, ſaid he, lowering his Voice, That Lady was for many Years the Miſtreſs of a young military Nobleman, whom ſhe was ſo complaiſant to follow in all his Campaigns, Marches, Sieges, and every Inconveniency of War: He married her in Gibraltar, from whence he is lately arriv'd, and introduc'd his new Lady to his noble Brother, by whom ſhe was not unfavourably receiv'd. 'Tis worth remarking, that this ſame haughty Peer thought ſit to reſent with implacable Obſtinacy, the Marriage of another of his Brothers, with the Widow of a brave Officer, of conſiderable Rank in the Army. 'Tis true, ſhe was ſeveral Years older than the young Lord, and had no Fortune; but the Duke aſſign'd other Reaſons for his Diſpleaſure: He complain'd loudly, that his Brother had diſhonour'd the Nobility of his Birth, by this Alliance, and continued his Re⯑ſentment till the Death of the young Hero, who gave many remarkable Proofs of his Courage and Fortitude upon ſeveral Occaſions, and died gloriouſly before the Walls of Carthagena; [156] leaving his diſconſolate Lady a Widow a ſe⯑cond Time, with the Acquiſition of a Title indeed, but a very ſmall Addition to her For⯑tune.

Obſerve that gay, ſplendid Lady, I beſeech you, Madam, purſued he, turning to Arabella; how affectedly ſhe looks and talks, and throws her Eyes around the Room, with a haughty Self-ſufficiency in her Aſpect, and inſolent Con⯑tempt for every Thing but herſelf. Her Ha⯑bit, her Speech, her Motions, are all French; nothing in England is able to pleaſe her; the People ſo dull, ſo aukwardly polite, the Man⯑ners ſo groſs; no Delicacy, no Elegance, no Magnificence in their Perſons, Houſes, or Di⯑verſions; every Thing is ſo diſtaſteful, there is no living in ſuch a Place. One may crawl about, indeed, ſhe ſays, and make a ſhift to breathe in the odious Country, but one cannot be ſaid to live; and with all the Requiſites to render Life delightful, here, one can only ſuffer, not enjoy it.

Would one not imagine, purſued he, this fine Lady was a Perſon of very exalted Rank, who has the Sanction of Birth, Riches, and Grandeur for her extraordinary Pride; and yet ſhe is no other than the Daughter of an Inn-Keeper at Spa, and had the exalted Poſt aſſign'd her of attending new Lodgers to their Apart⯑ments, acquainting them with all the Conve⯑niences of the Place, anſwering an humble Queſtion or two concerning what Company was in the Town, what Scandal was ſtirring, and the like.

[157] One of our great Sea Commanders going thither for his Health, happen'd to lodge at this Inn; and was ſo ſtruck with her Charms, that he marry'd her in a few Weeks, and ſoon after brought her to England.

Such was the Origin of this fantaſtick Lady; whoſe inſupportable Pride and ridiculous Af⯑fectation, draws Contempt and Averſion where⯑ſhe appears.

Did I not tell you, Madam, interrupted Mr. Glanville, that the Amuſement you had choſe was not ſo innocent as Dancing? What a deal of Scandal has Mr. Tinſel utter'd in the Compaſs of a few Minutes?

I aſſure you, replied Arabella, I know not what to make of the Hiſtories he has been re⯑lating. I think they do not deſerve that Name, and are rather detatched Pieces of Satire on particular Perſons, than a ſerious Relation of Facts. I confeſs my Expectations from this Gentleman have not been anſwer'd.

I think, however, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glan⯑ville, we may allow that there is a negative Merit in the Relations Mr. Tinſel has made; for, if he has not ſhewn us any Thing to ap⯑prove, he has at leaſt ſhewn us what to condemn.

The Uglineſs of Vice, reply'd Arabella, ought only to be repreſented to the Vicious; to whom Satire, like a magnifying Glaſs, may aggravate every Defect, in order to make its Deformity appear more hideous; but ſince its End is only to reprove and amend, it ſhould never be addreſs'd to any but thoſe who come within its Correction, and may be the better for it: A virtuous Mind need not be ſhewn [158] the Deformity of Vice, to make it be hated and avoided; the more pure and uncorrupted our Ideas are, the leſs ſhall we be inſluenc'd by Ex⯑ample. A natural Propenſity to Virtue or Vice often determines the Choice: 'Tis ſuffi⯑cient therefore to ſhew a good Mind what it ought to purſue, though a bad one muſt be told what to avoid. In a Word, one ought to be always incited, the other always reſtrain'd.

I vow, Lady Bella, ſaid Miſs Glanville, you'd make one think one came here to hear a Sermon; you are ſo very grave, and talk upon ſuch high-flown Subjects. What Harm was there in what Mr. Tinſel was telling us? It would be hard indeed, if one might not divert one's ſelf with other Peoples Faults.

I am afraid, Miſs, ſaid Arabella, thoſe who can divert themſelves with the Faults of others, are not behind hand in affording Diverſion. And that very Inclination, added ſhe, ſmilingly, to hear other Peoples Faults, may by thoſe very People, be condemned as one, and afford them the ſame Kind of ill-natur'd Pleaſure you are ſo deſirous of.

Nay, Madam, return'd Miſs Glanville, your Ladyſhip was the firſt who introduc'd the Diſ⯑courſe you condemn ſo much. Did not you deſire Mr. Tinſel to tell you Hiſtories about the Company; and ask my brother and me, to come and hear them?

'Tis true, reply'd Arabella, that I did deſire you to partake with me of a pleaſing and rational Amuſement, for ſuch I imagin'd Mr. Tinſel's Hiſtories might afford; far from a Detail of Vices, Follies, and Irregularities, I [159] expected to have heard the Adventures of ſome illuſtrious Perſonages related; between whoſe Actions, and thoſe of the Heroes and Heroines of Antiquity, I might have found ſome Re⯑ſemblance.

For Inſtance, I hop'd to have heard imitated the ſublime Courage of a Clelia, who, to ſave her Honour from the Attempts of the impious Tarquin, leap'd into the River Tyber, and ſwam to the other Side; or the noble Reſolution of the incomparable Candace, who, to eſcape out of the Hands of her Raviſher, the Pirate Ze⯑nadorus, ſet Fire to his Veſſel with her own Hands, and committed herſelf to the Mercy of the Waves: Or, the Conſtancy and Affection of a Mandana, who, for the Sake of a Cyrus, refuſed the richeſt Crowns in the World, and braved the Terrors of Death to preſerve herſelf for him.

As for the Men, I hoped to have heard of ſome who might have almoſt equall'd the great Oroondates, the invincible Artaban, the valiant Juba, the renowned Alcamenes, and many thouſand Heroes of Antiquity; whoſe glorious Exploits in War, aud unſaken Conſtancy in Love, have given them an immortal Fame.

While Arabella was uttering this long Speech, with great Emotion, Miſs Glanville, with a ſly Look at the Beau, gave him to underſtand, that was her Couſin's Foible.

Mr. Tinſel, however, not able to compre⯑hend the Meaning of what ſhe ſaid, liſten'd to her with many Signs of Perplexity and Wonder.

Mr. Selvin in ſecret repin'd at her prodigious Knowledge of Hiſtory; and Mr. Glanville, [160] with his Eyes fix'd on the Ground, bit his Lips almoſt through with Madneſs.

In the mean Time, ſeveral among the Com⯑pany, deſirous of hearing what the ſtrange Lady was ſaying ſo loud, and with ſo much Eagerneſs and Emotion, gather'd round them; which Mr. Glanville obſerving, and fearing Arabella would expoſe herſelf ſtill farther, whiſ⯑per'd his Siſter to get her away if poſſible.

Miſs Glanville, tho' very unwilling, obey'd his Injunctions; and complaining of a ſudden Head-ach, Arabella immediately propos'd re⯑tiring, which was joyfully complied with by Mr. Glanville, who with the other Gentlemen attended them home.

CHAP. IX.

AT their Return, Sir Charles told his Niece, That ſhe had now had a Specimen of the World, and ſome of the faſhionable Amuſe⯑ments; and ask'd her, how ſhe had been en⯑tertain'd.

Why, truly, Sir, replied ſhe, ſmiling, I have brought away no great Reliſh for a Re⯑newal of the Amuſement I have partaken of To-night. If the World, in which you ſeem to think I am but new initiated, affords only theſe Kinds of Pleaſures, I ſhall very ſoon regret the Solitude and Books I have quitted.

[161] Why pray, ſaid Miſs Glanville? What Kind of Amuſements did your Ladyſhip expect to find in the World? And what was there diſ⯑agreeable in your Entertainment to Night? I am ſure there is no Place in England, except London, where there is ſo much good Company to be met with, as here. The Aſſembly was very numerous and brillant, and one can be at no Loſs for Amuſements: The Pump-Room in the Morning, the Parade, and the Rooms, in the Evening, with little occaſional Parties of Pleaſure, will find one ſufficient Employment, and leave none of one's Time to lye uſeleſs up⯑on one's Hand.

I am of Opinion, replied Arabella, that one's Time is far from being well employ'd in the Manner you portion it out: And People who ſpend theirs in ſuch trifling Amuſements, muſt certainly live to very little Purpoſe.

What room, I pray you, does a Lady give for high and noble Adventures, who conſumes her Days in Dreſſing, Dancing, liſtening to Songs, and ranging the Walks with People as thoughtleſs as herſelf? How mean and con⯑temptible a Figure muſt a Life ſpent in ſuch idle Amuſements make in Hiſtory? Or rather, Are not ſuch Perſons always buried in Oblivion, and can any Pen be found who would conde⯑ſcend to record ſuch inconſiderable Actions?

Nor can I perſuade myſelf, added ſhe, that any of thoſe Men whom I ſaw at the Aſſembly, with Figures ſo feminine, Voices ſo ſoft, ſuch tripping Steps, and unmeaning Geſtures, have ever ſignalized either their Courage or Con⯑ſtancy; [162] but might be overcome by their Enemy in Battle, or be falſe to their Miſtreſs in Love.

Law! Couſin, reply'd Miſs Glanville, you are always talking of Battles and Fighting. Do you expect that Perſons of Quality, and fine Gentlemen, will go to the Wars? What Bu⯑ſineſs have they to fight? That belongs to the Officers.

Then every fine Gentleman is an Officer, ſaid Arabella; and ſome other Title ought to be found out for Men who do nothing but Dance and Dreſs.

I could never have imagined, interrupted Mr. Tinſel, ſurveying Arabella, that a Lady ſo elegant and gay in her own Appearance, ſhould have an Averſion to Pleaſure and Magnificence.

I aſſure you, Sir, replied Arabella, I have an Averſion to neither: On the contrary, I am a great Admirer of both. But my Ideas of Amuſements and Grandeur are probably different from yours.

I will allow the Ladies to be ſollicitous about their Habits, and dreſs with all the Care and Elegance they are capable of; but ſuch Trifles are below the Conſideration of a Man, who ought not to owe the Dignity of his Appear⯑ance to the Embroidery on his Coat, but to his high and noble Air, the Grandeur of his Courage, the Elevation of his Sentiments, and the many heroick Actions he has perform'd.

Such a Man will dreſs his Perſon with a graceful Simplicity, and laviſh all his Gold and Embroidery upon his Armour, to render him conſpicuous in the Day of Battle. The Plumes in his Helmet will look more graceful in the [163] Field, than the Feather in his Hat at a Ball; and Jewels blaze with more Propriety on his Shield and Cuiraſs in Battle, than glittering on his Finger in a Dance.

Do not imagine, however, purſued ſhe, that I abſolutely condemn Dancing, and think it a Diverſion wholly unworthy of a Hero.

Hiſtory has recorded ſome very famous Balls, at which the moſt illuſtrious Perſons in the World have appear'd.

Cyrus the Great, we are inform'd, open'd a Ball with the divine Mandana at Sardis. The renown'd King of Scythia danc'd with the Princeſs Cleopatra at Alexandria. The brave Cleomedon with the fair Candace at Ethiopia; but theſe Diverſions were taken but ſeldom, and conſider'd indeed as an Amuſement, not as a Part of the Buſineſs of Life.

How would ſo many glorious Battles have been fought, Cities taken, Ladies reſcu'd, and other great and noble Adventures been atchiev'd, if the Men, ſunk in Sloth and Effeminacy, had continually follow'd the Sound of a Fiddle, ſaunter'd in Publick Walks, and tattled over a Tea-table.

I vow, Couſin, ſaid Miſs Glanville, you are infinitely more ſevere in your Cenſures than Mr. Tinſel was at the Aſſembly. You had lit⯑tle Reaſon methinks to be angry with him.

All I have ſaid, reply'd Arabella, were the natural Inference from your own Account of the Manner in which People live here. When Actions are a Cenſure upon themſelves, the Re⯑citer will always be conſider'd as a Satiriſt.

CHAP. X.

MR. Selvin and Mr. Tinſel, who had liſten'd attentively to this Diſcourſe of Ara⯑bella, took Leave as ſoon as it was ended, and went away with very different Opinions of her.

Mr. Tinſel declaring ſhe was a Fool, and had no Knowledge of the World, and Mr. Selvin convinc'd ſhe was a Wit, and very learn'd in Antiquity.

Certainly, ſaid Mr. Selvin, in Support of his Opinion, the Lady has great Judgment; has been capable of prodigious Application, as is apparent by her extenſive Reading: Then her Memory is quite miraculous. I proteſt, I am quite charm'd with her: I never met with ſuch a Woman in my Life.

Her Couſin, in my Opinion, reply'd Mr. Tinſel, is infinitely beyond her in every Merit, but Beauty. How ſprightly and free her Con⯑verſation? What a thorough Knowledge of the World? So true a Taſte for polite Amuſe⯑ments, and a Fund of Spirits that ſets Vapours and Spleen at Defiance.

This Speech bringing on a Compariſon be⯑tween the Ladies, the Champions for each grew ſo warm in the Diſpute, that they had like to have quarrell'd. However, by the Interpoſition [165] of ſome other Gentlemen who were with them, they parted tolerable Friends that Night, and renew'd their Viſits to Sir Charles in the Morn⯑ing.

They found only Miſs Glanville with her Father and Brother. Arabella generally ſpent the Mornings in her own Chamber, where Reading and the Labours of the Toilet em⯑ploy'd her Time till Dinner: Tho' it muſt be confeſs'd to her Honour, that the latter en⯑groſs'd but a very ſmall Part of it.

Miſs Glanville, with whom the Beau had a long Converſation at one of the Windows; in which he recounted his Diſpute with Mr. Selvin, and the Danger he ran of being pink'd in a Duel, that was his Phraſe, for her Sake, at laſt propos'd a Walk; to which ſhe con⯑ſented, and engag'd to prevail upon Arabella to accompany them.

That Lady at firſt poſitively refus'd; al⯑leging in Excuſe, That ſhe was ſo extremely intereſted in the Fate of the Princeſs Meliſintha, whoſe Story ſhe was reading, that ſhe could not ſtir till ſhe had finiſh'd it.

That poor Princeſs, continu'd ſhe, is at pre⯑ſent in a moſt terrible Situation. She has juſt ſet Fire to the Palace, in order to avoid the Embraces of a King who forc'd her to marry him. I am in Pain to know how ſhe eſcapes the Flames.

Pſhaw, interrupted Miſs Glanville, let her periſh there, if ſhe will: Don't let her hinder our Walk.

Who is it you doom with ſo much Cruelty to periſh, ſaid Arabella, cloſing the Book, and [166] looking ſtedfaſtly on her Couſin? Is it the beau⯑tiful Meliſintha, that Princeſs, whoſe Fortitude and Patience have juſtly render'd her the Admi⯑ration of the whole World? That Princeſs, deſcended from a Race of Heroes, whoſe he⯑roick Virtues all glow'd in her own beauteous Breaſt; that Princeſs, who, when taken Cap⯑tive with the King her Father, bore her Im⯑priſonment and Chains with a marvellous Con⯑ſtancy; and who, when ſhe enſlaved her Con⯑queror, and given Fetters to the Prince who held her Father and herſelf in Bonds, nobly refus'd the Diadem he proffer'd her, and devoted herſelf to Deſtruction, in order to puniſh the Enemy of her Houſe. I am not able to relate the reſt of her Hiſtory, ſeeing I have read no further myſelf; but if you will be pleaſed to ſit down and liſten to me while I read what re⯑mains, I am perſuaded you will find new Cauſe to love and admire this amiable Princeſs.

Pardon me, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville, I have heard enough; and I could have been very well ſatisfy'd not to have heard ſo much. I think we waſte a great deal of Time talking about People we know nothing of. The Morn⯑ing will be quite loſt, if we don't make Haſte. Come, added ſhe, you muſt go: You have a new Lover below, who waits to go with us; he'll die if I don't bring you.

A new Lover! return'd Arabella, ſurpriz'd.

Aye, aye, ſaid Miſs Glanville, the learned Mr. Selvin; I aſſure you, he had almoſt quar⯑rell'd with Mr. Tinſel laſt Night about your Ladyſhip.

[167] Arabella, at this Intelligence, caſting down her Eyes, diſcover'd many Signs of Anger and Confuſion: And after a Silence of ſome Mo⯑ments, during which, Miſs Glanville had been employ'd in adjuſting her Dreſs at the Glaſs, addreſſing herſelf to her Couſin with an Accent ſomewhat leſs ſweet than before.

Had any other than yourſelf, Miſs, ſaid ſhe, acquainted me with the Preſumption of that unfortunate Perſon, I ſhould haply have diſco⯑ver'd my Reſentment in other Terms: But, as it is, muſt inform you, that I take it extremely ill, you ſhould be acceſſary to giving me this Offence.

Hey day! ſaid Miſs Glanville, turning about haſtily, How have I offended your Ladyſhip, pray?

I am willing to hope, Couſin, reply'd Ara⯑bella, that it was only to divert yourſelf with the Trouble and Confuſion in which you ſee me, that you have indiſcreetly told Things which ought to have been bury'd in Silence.

And what is all this mighty Trouble and Confuſion about then, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville, ſmiling? Is it becauſe I told you, Mr. Selvin was a Lover of your Ladyſhip?

Certainly, ſaid Arabella, ſuch an Information is ſufficient to give one a great deal of Perplexi⯑ty. Is it ſuch a little Matter, think you, to be told that a Man has the Preſumption to love one?

A meer Trifle, reply'd Miſs Glanville, laugh⯑ing; a hundred Lovers are not worth a Mo⯑ment's Thought, when one's ſure of them, for then the Trouble is all over. And as for this [168] unfortunate Perſon, as your Ladyſhip called him, let him die at his Leiſure, while we go to the Parade.

Your Levity, Couſin, ſaid Arabella, forces me to ſmile, notwithſtanding the Cauſe I have to be incens'd; however, I have Charity enough to make me not deſire the Death of Mr. Selvin, who may repair the Crime he has been guilty of by Repentance and Diſcontinuation.

Well then, ſaid Miſs Glanville, you are re⯑ſolv'd to go to the Parade: Shall I reach you your odd Kind of Capuchin?

How, ſaid Arabella, can I with any Pro⯑priety ſee a Man who has diſcover'd himſelf to have a Paſſion for me? Will he not conſtrue ſuch a Favour into a Permiſſion for him to hope?

Oh! no, interrupted Miſs Glanville, he does not imagine I have told your Ladyſhip he loves you; for indeed he don't know that I am ac⯑quainted with his Paſſion.

Then he is leſs culpable than I thought him, reply'd Arabella; and if you think I am in no Danger of hearing a Confeſſion of his Fault from his own Mouth, I'll comply with your Requeſt, and go with you to the Parade. But added ſhe, I muſt firſt engage you to promiſe not to leave me alone a Moment, leſt he ſhould take Advantage of ſuch an Opportunity, to give ſome Hint of his Paſſion, that would force me to treat him very rigorouſly.

Miſs Glanville anſwer'd laughing, That ſhe would be ſure to mind her Directions. How⯑ever, ſaid ſhe, your Ladyſhip need not be ap⯑prehenſive he will ſay any fine Things to you; [169] for I knew a young Lady he was formerly in Love with, and the odious Creature viſited her a Twelve-month before he found Courage enough to tell her ſhe was handſome.

Doubtleſs, reply'd Arabella, he was much to be commended for his Reſpect. A Lover ſhould never have the Preſumption to declare his Paſſion to his Miſtreſs, unleſs in certain Circumſtances, which may at the ſame Time in part diſarm her Anger. For Inſtance, he muſt ſtruggle with the Violence of his Paſſion, till it has caſt him into a Fever. His Phyſi⯑cians muſt give him over, pronouncing his Di⯑ſtemper incurable, ſince the Cauſe of it being in his Mind, all their Art is incapable of re⯑moving it. Thus he muſt ſuffer, rejoicing at the Approach of Death, which will free him from all his Torments, without violating the Reſpect he owes to the Divine Object of his Flame. At length, when he has but a few Hours to live, his Miſtreſs, with many Signs of Compaſſion, conjures him to tell her the Cauſe of his Deſpair. The Lover, conſcious of his Crime, evades all her Inquiries; but the Lady laying at laſt a peremptory Command upon him to diſcloſe the Secret, he dares not diſobey her, and acknowledges his Paſſion with the utmoſt Contrition for having offended her; bidding her take the ſmall Remainder of his Life to expiate his Crime; and finiſhes his Diſcourſe by falling into a Swoon.

The Lady is touch'd at his Condition, com⯑mands him to live, and if neceſſary, permits him to hope.

[170] This is the moſt common Way in which ſuch Declarations are, and ought to be brought about. However, there are others, which are as well calculated for ſparing a Lady's Confu⯑ſion, and deprecating her Wrath.

The Lover, for Example, like the Prince of the Maſſage [...]es, after having buried his Paſ⯑ſion in Silence for many Years, may chance to be walking with his Confidant in a retir'd Place; to whom, with a Deluge of Tears, he relates the Exceſs of his Paſſion and Deſpair. And while he is thus unboſoming his Griefs, not in the leaſt ſuſpecting he is overheard, his Princeſs, who had been liſtning to him in much Trouble and Confuſion, by ſome little Ruſtling ſhe makes, unawares diſcovers herſelf.

The ſurpriz'd Lover throws himſelf at her Feet, begs Pardon for his Raſhneſs, obſerves that he had never preſum'd to diſcover his Paſſion to her; and implores her Leave to die before her, as a Puniſhment for his undeſign'd Offence.

The Method which the great Artamenes took to let the Princeſs of Media know he adored her, was not leſs reſpectful. This valiant Prince, who had long loved her, being to fight a great Battle, in which he had ſome ſecret Preſages he ſhould fall, which however deceiv'd him, wrote a long Letter to the divine Mandana, wherein he diſcover'd his Paſſion, and the Reſolution his Reſpect had inſpir'd him with, to conſume in Silence, and never preſume to diſcloſe his Love while he lived; acquainting her, that he had order'd that Letter not to be deliver'd to her, till it was certainly known that he was dead.

[171] Accordingly he receiv'd ſeveral Wounds in the Fight, which brought him to the Ground, and his Body not being found, they concluded it was in the Enemy's Poſſeſſion.

His faithful 'Squire, who had receiv'd his In⯑ſtructions before the Battle, haſtens to the Prin⯑ceſs, who, with all the Court, is mightily af⯑fected at his Death.

He preſents her the Letter, which ſhe makes no Scruple to receive, ſince the Writer is no more. She reads it, and her whole Soul is melted with Compaſſion; ſhe bewails his Fate with the moſt tender and affectionate Marks of Grief.

Her Confidant asks why ſhe is ſo much af⯑fected, ſince in all Probability, ſhe would not have pardon'd him for loving her, had he been alive?

She acknowledges the Truth of her Obſerva⯑tion, takes Notice that his Death having can⯑cell'd his Crime, his reſpectful Paſſion alone employs her Thoughts; ſhe is reſolv'd to be⯑wail as innocent and worthy of Compaſſion when dead, whom living ſhe would treat as a Criminal, and inſinuates, that her Heart had entertain'd an Affection for him.

Her Confidant treaſures up this Hint, and endeavours to conſole her, but in vain, till News is brought, that Artamenes, who had been car⯑ry'd for dead out of the Field, and by a very ſurprizing Adventure conceal'd all this Time, is return'd.

The Princeſs is cover'd with Confuſion, and tho' glad he is alive, reſolves to baniſh him for his Crime.

[172] Her Confidant pleads his Cauſe ſo well, that ſhe conſents to ſee him; and, ſince he can no longer conceal his Paſſion, he confirms the Con⯑feſſion in his Letter, humbly begging Pardon for being ſtill alive.

The Princeſs, who cannot plead Ignorance of his Paſſion, nor deny the Sorrow ſhe teſtify'd for his Death, condeſcends to pardon him, and he is alſo permitted to hope. In like Manner the great Prince of Perſia—

Does your Ladyſhip conſider how late it is, interrupted Miſs Glanville, who had hitherto very impatiently liſten'd to her? Don't let us keep the Gentlemen waiting any longer for us.

I muſt inform you how the Prince of Perſia declar'd his Love for the incomparable Berenice, ſaid Arabella.

Another Time, dear Couſin, ſaid Miſs Glanville; methinks we have talk'd long enough upon this Subject.

I am ſorry the Time has ſeem'd ſo tedious to you, ſaid Arabella, ſmiling; and therefore I'll treſpaſs no longer upon your Patience. Then ordering Lucy to bring her Hat and Gloves, ſhe went down Stairs, follow'd by Miſs Glanville, who was greatly diſappointed at her not putting on her Veil.

CHAP. XI.

AS ſoon as the Ladies enter'd the Room, Mr. Selvin, with more Gaiety than uſual, advanc'd towards Arabella, who put on ſo cold and ſevere a Countenance at his Approach, that the poor Man, extreamly confus'd, drew back, and remain'd in great Perplexity, fearing he had offended her.

Mr. Tinſel, ſeeing Mr. Selvin's Reception, and aw'd by the becoming Majeſty in her Per⯑ſon, notwithſtanding all his Aſſurance, accoſted her with leſs Confidence than was his Cuſtom; but Arabella ſoftning her Looks with the moſt engaging Smiles, made an Apology for detain⯑ing them ſo long from the Parade, gave her Hand to the Beau, as being not a ſuſpected Perſon, and permitted him to lead her out. Mr. Glanville, to whom ſhe always allow'd the Preference on thoſe Occaſions, being a little in⯑diſpos'd, and not able to attend her.

Mr. Tinſel, whoſe Vanity was greatly flat⯑ter'd by the Preference Arabella gave him to his Companion, proceeded according to his uſual Cuſtom, to examine her Looks and Be⯑haviour with more Care; conceiving ſuch a Preference muſt proceed from a latent Motive which was not unfavourable for him. His Diſcernment on theſe Occaſions being very ſur⯑priſing, [174] he ſoon diſcover'd in the bright Eyes of Arabella a ſecret Approbation of his Perſon, which he endeavour'd to increaſe by diſplaying it with all the Addreſs he was Maſter of, and did not fail to talk her into an Opinion of his Wit, by ridiculing every Body that paſs'd them, and directing ſeveral ſtudy'd Compliments to herſelf.

Miſs Glanville, who was not ſo agreeably en⯑tertain'd by the grave Mr. Selvin, ſaw theſe Advances to a Gallantry with her Couſin with great Diſturbance: She was reſolved to in⯑terrupt it if poſſible, and being convinc'd Mr. Selvin preferr'd Arabella's Converſation to hers, ſhe plotted how to pair them together, and have the Beau to herſelf.

As they walk'd a few Paces behind her Couſin and Mr. Tinſel, ſhe was in no Danger of be⯑ing over-heard; and taking Occaſion to put Mr. Selvin in mind of Arabella's Behaviour to him, when he accoſted her; ſhe ask'd him, if he was conſcious of having done any thing to offend her?

I proteſt, Madam, reply'd Mr. Selvin, I know not of any thing I have done to diſpleaſe her. I never fail'd, to my Knowledge, in my Re⯑ſpects towards her Ladyſhip, for whom indeed I have a moſt profound Veneration.

I know ſo much of her Temper, reſum'd Miſs Glanville, as to be certain, if ſhe has taken it into her Head to be angry with you, ſhe will be ten times more ſo at your Indifference: And if you hope for her Favour, you muſt ask her Pardon with the moſt earneſt Submiſſion ima⯑ginable.

[175] If I knew I had offended her, reply'd Mr. Selvin, I would very willingly ask her Par⯑don; but really, ſince I have not been guilty of any Fault towards her Ladyſhip, I don't know how to acknowledge it.

Well, ſaid Miſs Glanville coldly, I only took the Liberty to give you ſome friendly Ad⯑vice, which you may follow, or not, as you pleaſe. I know my Couſin is angry at ſome⯑thing, and I wiſh you were Friends again, that's all.

I am mightily oblig'd to you, Madam, ſaid Mr. Selvin; and ſince you aſſure me her Lady⯑ſhip is angry, I'll ask her Pardon, tho', really, as I ſaid before, I don't know for what.

Well, interrupted Miſs Glanville, we'll join them at the End of the Parade; and to give you an Opportunity of ſpeaking to my Couſin, I'll engage Mr. Tinſel myſelf.

Mr. Selvin, who thought himſelf greatly oblig'd to Miſs Glanville for her good Intentions, tho' in reality ſhe had a View of expoſing of her Couſin, as well as an Inclination to engage Mr. Tinſel, took Courage as they turn'd, to get on the other Side of Arabella, whom he had not dar'd before to approach, while Miſs Glanville, addreſſing a Whiſper of no great Importance to her Couſin, parted her from the Beau, and ſlackning her Pace a little, fell into a particular Diſcourſe with him, which Arabella being too polite to interrupt, remain'd in a very perplex⯑ing Situation, dreading every Moment that Mr. Selvin would explain himſelf. Alarm'd at his Silence, yet reſolv'd to interrupt him if he began to ſpeak, and afraid of beginning a Con⯑verſation [176] firſt, leſt he ſhould conſtrue it to his Advantage.

Mr. Selvin being naturally timid in the Com⯑pany of Ladies, the Circumſtance of Diſgrace which he was in with Arabella, her Silence and Reſerve ſo added to his accuſtom'd Diffidence, that tho' he endeavour'd ſeveral times to ſpeak, he was not able to bring out any thing but a preluding Hem; which he obſerv'd, to his ex⯑treme Confuſion, ſeem'd always to encreaſe Arabella's Conſtraint.

Indeed, that Lady, upon any Suſpicion that he was going to break his myſterious Silence, always contracted her Brow into a Frown, caſt down her Eyes with an Air of Perplexity, en⯑deavour'd to hide her Bluſhes with her Fan; and to ſhew her In-attention, directed her Looks to the contrary Side.

The Lady and Gentleman being in equal Confuſion, no Advances were made on either Side towards a Converſation, and they had reach'd almoſt the End of the Parade in an un⯑interrupted Silence; when Mr. Selvin, fearing he ſhould never again have ſo good an Opportu⯑nity of making his Peace, collected all his Re⯑ſolution, and with an Accent trembling under the Importance of the Speech he was going to make, began,

Madam, Since I have had the Honour of walking with your Ladyſhip, I have obſerved ſo many Signs of Conſtraint in your Manner, that I hardly dare intreat you to grant me a Moment's Hearing while I—

Sir, interrupted Arabella, before you go any further, I muſt inform you, that what you are [177] going to ſay will mortally offend me. Take heed then how you commit an Indiſcretion which will force me to treat you very rigorouſly.

If your Ladyſhip will not allow me to ſpeak in my own Juſtification, ſaid Mr. Selvin, yet I hope you will not refuſe to tell me my Offence, ſince I—

You are very confident, indeed, interrupted Arabella, again, to ſuppoſe I will repeat what would be infinitely grievous for me to hear. Againſt my Will, purſued ſhe, I muſt give you the Satisfaction to know, that I am not igno⯑rant of your Crime, but I alſo aſſure you that I am highly incens'd; and that, not only with the Thoughts you have dar'd to entertain of me, but likewiſe with your Preſumption in going about to diſcloſe them.

Mr. Selvin, whom the ſeeming Contradictions in this Speech aſtoniſh'd, yet imagin'd in ge⯑neral it hinted at the Diſpute between him and Mr. Tinſel; and ſuppoſing the Story had been told to his Diſadvantage, which was the Cauſe of her Anger, reply'd in great Emotion at the Injuſtice done him.

Since ſomebody has been ſo officious to ac⯑quaint your Ladyſhip with an Affair which ought to have been kept from your Knowledge; 'tis a Pity they did not inform you, that Mr. Tinſel was the Perſon that had the leaſt Reſpect for your Ladyſhip, and is more worthy of your Reſentment.

If Mr. Tinſel, replied Arabella, is guilty of an Offence like yours, yet ſince he has con⯑ceal'd it better, he is leſs culpable than you; and you have done that for him, which haply [178] he would never have had Courage enough to do for himſelf as long as he lived.

Poor Selvin, quite confounded at theſe intri⯑cate Words, would have begg'd her to explain herſelf, had ſhe not ſilenc'd him with a dreadful Frown: Aand making a Stop till Miſs Glanville and Mr. Tinſel came up to them. She told her Couſin with a peeviſh Accent, that ſhe had perform'd her Promiſe very ill; and whiſper'd her, that ſhe was to blame for all the Mortifi⯑cations ſhe had ſuffer'd.

Mr. Tinſel, ſuppoſing the Alteration in Arabella's Humour proceeded from being ſo long depriv'd of his Company; endeavour'd to make her Amends by a Profuſion of Compliments; which ſhe receiv'd with ſuch an Air of Diſ⯑pleaſure, that the Beau, vex'd at the ill Succeſs of his Gallantry, told her, he was afraid Mr. Sel⯑vin's Gravity had infected her Ladyſhip.

Say rather, reply'd Arabella, that his Indiſ⯑cretion has offended me.

Mr. Tinſel, charm'd with this beginning Con⯑fidence, which confirm'd his Hopes of having made fome Impreſſion on her Heart; conjur'd her very earneſtly to tell him how Mr. Selvin had offended her.

'Tis ſufficient, reſum'd ſhe, that I tell you he has offended me, without declaring the Na⯑ture of his Crime, ſince doubtleſs it has not eſcaped your Obſervation, which, if I may believe him, is not wholly diſintereſted. To confeſs yet more, 'tis true that he hath told me ſomething concerning you, which—

Let me periſh, Madam, interrupted the Beau, if one Syllable he has ſaid be true.

[179] How, ſaid Arabella, a little diſconcerted, Will you always perſiſt in a Denial then?

Deny it, Madam, return'd Mr. Tinſel, I'll deny what he has ſaid with my laſt Breath; 'tis all a ſcandalous Forgery: No Man living is leſs likely to think of your Ladyſhip in that Man⯑ner. If you knew my Thoughts, Madam, you would be convinc'd nothing is more im⯑poſſible, and—

Sir, interrupted Arabella, extremely morti⯑fy'd, methinks you are very eager in your Ju⯑ſtification. I promiſe you, I do not think you guilty of the Offence he charg'd you with; if I did, you would haply experience my Reſent⯑ment in ſuch a Manner, as would make you repent of your Preſumption.

Arabella, in finiſhing theſe Words, inter⯑rupted Miſs Glanville's Diſcourſe with Mr. Selvin, to tell her, ſhe deſir'd to return Home; to which that young Lady, who had not been at all pleaſ'd with the Morning's Walk, conſented.

CHAP. XII.

AS ſoon as the Ladies were come to their Lodgings, Arabella went up to her own Apartment to meditate upon what had paſs'd, and Miſs Glanville retir'd to dreſs for Dinner; [180] while the two Gentlemen, who thought they had great Reaſon to be diſſatisfy'd with each other on Account of Lady Bella's Behaviour, went to a Coffee-houſe, in order to come to ſome Explanation about it,

Well, Sir, ſaid the Beau, with a ſarcaſtick Air, I am greatly oblig'd to you for the Endea⯑vours you have us'd to ruin me in Lady Bella's Opinion. Rat me, if it is not the greateſt Misfortune in the World, to give occaſion for Envy.

Envy, Sir, interrupted Mr. Selvin; I proteſt I do really admire your great Skill in Strata⯑gems, but I do not envy you the Poſſeſſion of it. You have, indeed, very wittily contriv'd to put your own Sentiments of that Lady, which you deliver'd ſo freely the other Night, into my Mouth. 'Twas a Maſter-piece of Cunning, indeed; and, as I ſaid before, I ad⯑mire your Skill prodigiouſly.

I don't know what you mean, reply'd Tinſel, y [...]u talk in Riddles. Did you not yourſelf ac⯑quaint Lady Bella with the Preference I gave Miſs Glanville to her? What would you pro⯑poſe by ſuch a Piece of Treachery? You have ruin'd all my Hopes by it: The Lady reſents it exceſſively, and it's no Wonder, 'faith, it muſt certainly mortify her. Upon my Soul, I can never forgive thee for ſo mal a propos a Diſcovery.

Forgive me, Sir, replied Selvin, in a Rage, I don't want your Forgiveneſs. I have done nothing unbecoming a Man of Honour. The Lady was ſo prejudiced by your Inſinuations, that ſhe would not give me Leave to ſpeak; [181] otherwiſe, I would have fully inform'd her of her Miſtake, that ſhe might have known how much ſhe was oblig'd to you.

So ſhe would not hear thee, interrupted Tinſel laughing, dear Soul, how very kind was that? 'Faith, I don't know how it is, but I am very lucky, without deſerving to be ſo. Thou art a Witneſs for me, Frank, I took no great Pains to gain this fine Creature's Heart; but it was damn'd malicious tho', to attempt to make Diſcoveries. I ſee ſhe is a little piqu'd, but I'll ſet all to rights again with a Billet-doux. I've an excellent Hand, tho' I ſay it, at a Billet-doux. I never knew one of mine fail in my Life.

Harky, Sir, ſaid Selvin whiſpering, any more Attempts to ſhift your Sentiments upon me, and you ſhall hear of it. In the mean Time, be aſſur'd, I'll clear myſelf, and put the Saddle upon the right Horſe.

Demme, if thou art not [...] queer Fellow, ſaid Tinſel, endeavouring to hide his Diſcompo⯑ſure at this Threat under a forc'd Laugh.

Selvin, without making any Reply, retir'd to write to Arabella; which Tinſel ſuſpecting, reſolv'd to be before hand with him; and with⯑out leaving the Coffee-houſe, call'd for Paper, and wrote a Billet to her, which he diſpatch'd away immediately.

The Meſſenger had juſt got Admittance to Lucy, when another arriv'd from Selvin.

They both preſented their Letters, but Lucy refus'd them, ſaying, her Lady would turn her away, if ſhe receiv'd ſuch Sort of Letters.

Such Sort of Letters, return'd Tinſel's Man! Why, do you know what they contain, then?

[182] To be ſure, I do, reply'd Lucy; they are Love-Letters; and my Lady has charg'd me never to receive any more.

Well, reply'd Selvin's Servant, you may take my Letter; for my Maſter deſir'd me to tell you, it was about Buſineſs of Conſequence, which your Lady muſt be acquainted with.

Since you aſſure me it is not a Love-Letter, I'll take it, ſaid Lucy.

And, pray take mine too, ſaid Tinſel's Mer⯑cury; for I aſſure you, it is not a Love-Letter neither; it's only a Billet-doux.

Are you ſure of that, reply'd Lucy; becauſe I may venture to take it, I fancy, if its what you ſay.

I'll ſwear it, ſaid the Man delivering it to her. Well, ſaid ſhe, receiving it, I'll take them both up. But what did you call this, purſu'd ſhe? I muſt not forget it, or elſe my Lady will think it a Love-Letter.

A Billet-doux, ſaid the Man.

Lucy, for fear ſhe ſhould forget it, repeated the Words Billet-doux ſeveral Times as ſhe went up Stairs; but entering her Lady's Apartment, ſhe perceiving the Letters in her Hand, ask'd her ſo ſternly, how ſhe durſt preſume to bring them into her Preſence, that the poor Girl, in her Fright, forgot the Leſſon ſhe had been con⯑ning; and endeavouring to recal it into her Memory, took no Notice of her Lady's Que⯑ſtion, which ſhe repeated ſeveral times, but to no Purpoſe.

Arabella, ſurpriz'd at her in-attention, re⯑iterated her Commands, in a Tone ſomewhat [183] louder than uſual; asking her at the ſame Time, why ſhe did not obey her immediately?

Indeed, Madam, reply'd Lucy, your Lady⯑ſhip would not order me to take back the Let⯑ters, if you knew what they were: They are not Love-Letters; I was reſolv'd to be ſure of that before I took them. This, Madam, is a Letter about Buſineſs of Conſequence; and the other—Oh dear! I can't think what the Man call'd it! But it is not a Love-Letter, in⯑deed, Madam.

You are a ſimple Wench, ſaid Arabella ſmiling: You may depend upon it, all Letters directed to me, muſt contain Matters of Love and Gallantry; and thoſe I am not permitted to receive. Take them away then immediately. But ſtay, purſued ſhe, ſeeing ſhe was about to obey her, one of them, you ſay, was deliver'd to you as a Letter of Conſequence; perhaps i [...] is ſo: Indeed it may contain an Advertiſement of ſome Deſign to carry me away. How do I know, but Mr. Selvin, incited by his Love and Deſpair, may intend to make ſuch an Attempt. Give me that Letter, Lucy, I am reſolved to open it. As for the other—yet who knows but the other may alſo bring me Warning of the ſame Danger from another Quarter. The Pains Mr. Tinſel took to conceal his Paſſion, nay, almoſt as I think, to deny it, amounts to a Proof that he is meditating ſome Way to make ſure of me. 'Tis certainly ſo: Give me that Letter, Lucy; I ſhould be acceſſary to their intended Violence, if I neglected this timely Diſcovery.

[184] Well, cried ſhe, taking one of the Letters, this is exactly like what happen'd to the beauti⯑ful Princeſs of Cappadocia; who, like me, in one and the ſame Day, receiv'd Advice that two of her Lovers intended to carry her off.

As ſhe pronounc'd theſe Words Miſs Glanville enter'd the Room, to whom Arabella immedi⯑ately recounted the Adventure of the Letters; telling her, ſhe did not doubt, but they contain'd a Diſcovery of ſome Conſpiracy to carry her away.

And whom does your Ladyſhip ſuſpect of ſuch a ſtrange Deſign, pray, ſaid Miſs Glanville ſmiling?

At preſent, reply'd Arabella, the two Cava⯑liers who walk'd with us to Day, are the Per⯑ſons who ſeem the moſt likely to attempt that Violence.

I dare anſwer for Mr. Tinſel, replied Miſs Glanville, he thinks of no ſuch Thing.

Well, ſaid Arabella, to convince you of your Miſtake, I muſt inform you, that Mr. Selvin, having the Preſumption to begin a Declaration of Love to me on the Parade this Morning, I reprov'd him ſeverely for his Want of Reſpect, and threatned him with my Diſpleaſure; in the Rage of his Jealouſy, at ſeeing me treat Mr. Tinſel well, he diſcover'd to me, that he alſo was as criminal as himſelf, in order to oblige me to a ſeverer Uſage of him.

So he told you Mr. Tinſel was in Love with you, interrupted Miſs Glanville?

He told it me in other Words, reply'd Arabella; for he ſaid, Mr. Tinſel was guilty of that Of⯑fence, which I reſented ſo ſeverely to him.

[185] Miſs Glanville beginning to comprehend the Myſtery, with great Difficulty forbore laugh⯑ing at her Couſin's Miſtake; for ſhe well knew the Offence Mr. Selvin hinted at, and deſirous of knowing what thoſe Letters contain'd, ſhe begg'd her to delay opening them no longer.

Arabella, pleas'd at her Solicitude, open'd one of the Letters; but glancing her Eye to the Bottom, and ſeeing the Name of Selvin, ſhe threw it haſtily upon the Table, and avert⯑ing her Eyes, What a Mortification have I avoided, ſaid ſhe, that Letter is from Selvin; and queſtionleſs, contains an Avowal of his Crime.

Nay, you muſt read it, cried Miſs Glanville, taking it up; ſince you have open'd it, its the ſame Thing: You can never perſuade him but you have ſeen it. However, to ſpare your Nicety, I'll read it to you. Which accordingly ſhe did, and found it as follows.

How's this, cry'd Miſs Glanville? Why, Madam, you are certainly miſtaken. You ſee Mr. Selvin utterly denies the Crime of loving you. He has ſuffer'd very innocently in your Opinion. Indeed, your Ladyſhip was too haſty in condemning him.

If what he ſays be true, replied Arabella, who had been in extream Confuſion, while a Letter ſo different from what ſhe expected was reading; I have indeed unjuſtly condemn'd him. Nevertheleſs, I am ſtill inclin'd to be⯑lieve this is all Artifice; and that he is really guilty of entertaining a Paſſion for me.

But why ſhould he take ſo much Pains to deny it, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville? Methinks that looks very odd.

Not at all, interrupted Arabella, whoſe Spi⯑rits were rais'd by recollecting an Adventure in her Romance, ſimilar to this. Mr. Selvin has fallen upon the very ſame Stratagem with Sera⯑menes; who being in Love with the beautiful Cleobuline, Princeſs of Corinth, took all ima⯑ginable Pains to conceal his Paſſion, in order [187] to be near that fair Princeſs; who would have baniſh'd him from her Preſence, had ſhe known he was in Love with her. Nay, he went ſo far in his Diſſimulation, as to pretend Love to one of the Ladies of her Court; that his Paſ⯑ſion for the Princeſs might be the leſs taken no⯑tice of. In theſe Caſes therefore, the more re⯑ſolutely a Man denies his Paſſion, the more pure and violent it is.

Then Mr. Selvin's Paſſion is certainly very violent, reply'd Miſs Glanville, for he denies it very reſolutely; and I believe none but your Ladyſhip would have diſcover'd his Artifice. But ſhall we not open the other Letter? I have a ſtrong Notion it comes from Tinſel.

For that very Reaſon I would not be ac⯑quainted with the Contents, reply'd Arabella, You ſee, Mr. Selvin accuſes him of being guilty of that Offence which he denies: I ſhall doubt⯑leſs, meet with a Confirmation of his Love in that Letter. Do not, I beſeech you added ſhe, ſeeing her Couſin preparing to open the Letter, expoſe me to the Pain of hearing a pre⯑ſumptuous Declaration of Love. Nay, pur⯑ſued ſhe, riſing in great Emotion, if you are reſolved to perſecute me by reading it, I'll en⯑deavour to get out of the hearing of it.

You ſhan't, I declare, ſaid Miſs Glanville, laughing and holding her, I'll oblige you to hear it.

I vow, Couſin, ſaid Arabella ſmiling, you uſe me juſt as the Princeſs Cleopatra did the fair and wiſe Antonia. However, if by this you mean to do any Kindneſs to the unfortunate Perſon who wrote that Billet, you are greatly [188] miſtaken; ſince, if you oblige me to liſten to a Declaration of his Crime, you will lay me under a Neceſſity to baniſh him. A Sentence he would have avoided, while I remained ig⯑norant of it.

To this Miſs Glanville made no other Reply than by opening the Billet, the Contents of which may be found in the following Chapter.

CHAP. XIII.

[189] Well, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville when ſhe had read this Epiſtle, I fancy you need not pronounce a Sentence of Baniſhment upon poor Mr. Tinſel; he ſeems to be quite innocent of the Offence your Ladyſhip ſuſpects him of.

Why, really, return'd Arabella, bluſhing with extreme Confuſion at this ſecond Diſap⯑pointment, I am greatly perplex'd to know how I ought to act on this Occaſion. I am much in the ſame Situation with the Princeſs Serena. For you muſt know, this Princeſs— Here Lucy entering, inform'd the Ladies Din⯑ner was ſerv'd—I ſhall defer till another Op⯑portunity, ſaid Arabella, upon this Interruption, the Relation of the Princeſs Serena's Adven⯑tures; which you will find, added ſhe, in a low Voice, bears a very great Reſemblance to mine.

Miſs Glanville reply'd, ſhe would hear it whenever ſhe pleas'd, and then follow'd Arabella to the Dining Room.

The Cloth was ſcarce remov'd, when Mr. Selvin came in. Arabella bluſh'd at his Appearance, and diſcover'd ſo much Perplexity in her Behaviour, that Mr. Selvin was appre⯑henſive he had not yet ſufficiently juſtify'd him⯑ſelf; and therefore took the firſt Opportunity to approach her.

I ſhall think myſelf very unhappy, Madam, ſaid he bowing, if the Letter I did myſelf the Honour to write to you this Morning—

Sir, interrupted Arabella, I perceive you are going to forget the Contents of that Letter, and preparing again to offend me by a preſump⯑tuous Declaration of Love.

[190] Who I, Madam, reply'd he, in great Aſto⯑niſhment and Confuſion, I-I-I proteſt—tho' I-I have a very great Reſpect for your Lady⯑ſhip, yet—yet I never preſum'd to—to—to—

You have preſum'd too much, replied Ara⯑bella, and I ſhould forget what I ow'd to my own Glory, if I furniſh'd you with any more Occaſions of offending me.—Know then, I abſolutely forbid you to appear before me again, at leaſt, till I am convinc'd you have chang'd your Sentiments.

Saying this, ſhe roſe from her Seat, and making a Sign to him not to follow her, which indeed he had no Intention to do, ſhe quitted the Room, highly ſatisfy'd with her own Con⯑duct upon this Occaſion, which was exactly conformable to the Laws of Romance.

Mr. Tinſel, who had juſt alighted from his Chair, having a Glimpſe of her, as ſhe paſs'd to her own Apartment, reſolv'd, if poſſible, to procure a private Interview; for he did not doubt but his Billet had done Wonders in his Favour.

For that Purpoſe he ventur'd up to her Anti-Chamber, where he found Lucy in waiting, whom he deſir'd to acquaint her Lady, that he intreated a Moment's Speech with her.

Lucy, after heſitating a Moment, and look⯑ing earneſtly at him, replied, Sir, if you'll promiſe me faithfully, you are not in Love with my Lady, I'll go and deliver your Meſ⯑ſage.

Duce take me, ſaid Tinſel, if that is not a very whimſical Condition truly—Pray, my Dear, how came it into thy little Brain, to [191] ſuſpect I was in Love with thy Lady? But, ſuppoſe I ſhould be in Love with her, what then?

Why, then its likely you would die, that's all, ſaid Lucy, without my Lady would be ſo kind to command you to live.

I vow thou haſt mighty pretty Notions, Child, ſaid Tinſel ſmiling; haſt thou been reading any Play-Book lately? But pray, doſt think thy Lady would have compaſſion on me, if I was in Love with her? Come, I know thou art in her Confidence? Haſt thou ever heard her talk of me? Does ſhe not tell thee all her Secrets?

Here Arabella's Bell ringing, the Beau ſlipp'd half a Guinea into her Hand, which Lucy not willing to refuſe, went immediately to her Lady; to whom, with a trembling Accent, ſhe repeated Mr. Tinſel's Requeſt.

Imprudent Girl, cried Arabella, for I am loth to ſuſpect thee of Diſloyalty to thy Miſtreſs. Doſt thou know the Nature and Extent of the Requeſt thou haſt deliver'd? Art thou ignorant that the preſumptuous Man whom thou ſolliciteſt this Favour for, has mortally offended me?

Indeed, Madam, ſaid Lucy frighted out of her Wits, I don't ſollicit for him. I ſcorn to do any ſuch Thing. I would not offend your Ladyſhip for the World: For, before I would deliver his Meſſage to your Ladyſhip, I made him aſſure me, that he was not in Love with your Ladyſhip.

That was very wiſely done, indeed, replied Arabella, ſmiling: And do you believe he ſpoke the Truth?

[192] Yes, indeed, I am ſure of it, ſaid Lucy eagerly, if your Ladyſhip will but be pleas'd to ſee him, he is only in the next Room; I dare promiſe—

How, interrupted Arabella! What have you done? Have you brought him into my Apart⯑ment then? I proteſt this Adventure is exactly like what befel the beautiful Statira, when, by a Stratagem of the ſame Kind, Oroondates was introduc'd into her Preſence. Lucy, thou art another Barſina, I think; but I hope thy In⯑tentions are not leſs innocent than hers was.

Indeed, Madam, reply'd Lucy, exceſſively uneaſy at her Lady's Words, I am very inno⯑cent, I am no Barſina, as your Ladyſhip calls me.

I dare anſwer for thee, ſaid Arabella ſmiling at the Turn ſhe gave to her Words, thou art no Barſina; and I ſhould wrong thee very much to compare thee with that wiſe Princeſs; for thou art certainly one of the moſt ſimple Wenches in the World. But ſince thou haſt gone ſo far, let me know what the unfortunate Perſon deſires of me; for, ſince I am neither more rigid, nor pretend to more Virtue than Statira, I may do at leaſt as much for him, as that great Queen did for Oroondates.

He deſires, Madam, ſaid Lucy, that your Ladyſhip would be pleas'd to let him ſpeak with you.

Or, in his Words, I ſuppoſe, replied Arabella, he humbly implor'd a Moment's Audience.

I told your Ladyſhip his very Words, indeed, Madam, ſaid Lucy.

[193] I tell thee, Girl, thou art miſtaken, ſaid Arabella; 'tis impoſſible he ſhould ſue for ſuch a Favour in Terms like thoſe: Therefore, go back, and let him know that I conſent to grant him a ſhort Audience upon theſe Conditions.

Firſt, Provided he does not abuſe my Indul⯑gence by offending me with any Proteſtations of his Paſſion.

Secondly, That he engages to fulfil the In⯑junctions I ſhall lay upon him, however cruel and terrible they may appear.

Laſtly, That his Deſpair muſt not prompt him to any Act of Deſperation againſt himſelf.

Lucy having received this Meſſage, quitted the Room haſtily, for fear ſhe ſhould forget it.

Well, my pretty Ambaſſadreſs, ſaid Tinſel when he ſaw her enter the Anti-Chamber, Will your Lady ſee me?

No, Sir, replied Lucy.

No, interrupted Tinſel, that's kind 'faith, after waiting ſo long.

Pray Sir, ſaid Lucy, don't put me out ſo; I ſhall forget what my Lady order'd me to tell you.

Oh! I ask your Pardon, Child, ſaid Tinſel. Come, let me hear your Meſſage.

Sir, ſaid Lucy adapting the Solemnity of her Lady's Accent—My Lady bad me ſay, that ſhe will grant—No, that ſhe conſents to grant you a ſhort Dience.

Audience you would ſay Child, ſaid Tinſel. But how came you to tell me before ſhe would not ſee me?—

[194] I vow and proteſt, Sir, ſaid Lucy, you have put all my Lady's Words clean out of my Head—I don't know what comes next—

Oh, no matter, ſaid Tinſel, you have told me enough: I'll wait upon her directly.

Lucy, who ſaw him making towards the Door, preſt between it and him; and having all her Lady's Whims in her Head, ſuppos'd he was going to carry her away—Poſſeſs'd with this Thought, ſhe ſcream'd out, Help! Help! for Heaven's Sake! My Lady willl be carry'd away!

Arabella hearing this Exclamation of her Woman's, eccho'd her Screams, tho' with a Voice infinitely more delicate; and ſeeing Tinſel, who, confounded to the laſt Degree at the Cries of both the Lady and her Woman, had got into her Chamber he knew not how, ſhe gave herſelf over for loſt, and fell back in her Chair in a Swoon, or ſomething ſhe took for a Swoon, for ſhe was perſuaded it could happen no otherwiſe; ſince all Ladies in the ſame Circumſtances arr terrify'd into a fainting Fit, and ſeldom recover till they are conveni⯑ently carried away; and when they awake, find themſelves many Miles off in the Power of their Raviſher.

Arabella's other Women, alarm'd by her Cries, came running into the Room; and ſee⯑ing Mr. Tinſel there, and their Lady ia a Swoon, concluded ſome very extraordinary Accident had happen'd.

What is your Buſineſs here, cry'd they all at a Time? Is it you that has frighted her Lady⯑ſhip?

[195] Devil take me, ſaid Tinſel amaz'd, if I can tell what all this means.

By this Time Sir Charles, Mr. Glanville, and his Siſter, came running aſtoniſh'd up Stairs. Arabella ſtill continu'd motionleſs in her Chair, her Eyes clos'd, and her Head reclin'd upon Lucy, who with her other Women, was en⯑deavouring to recover her.

Mr. Glanville eagerly ran to her Aſſiſtance, while Sir Charles and his Daughter as eagerly interrogated Mr. Tinſel, who ſtood motionleſs with Surprize, concerning the Cauſe of her Diſorder.

Arabella, then firſt diſcovering ſome Signs of Life, half open'd her Eyes.

Inhuman Wretch, cry'd ſhe, with a faint Voice, ſuppoſing herſelf in the Hands of her Raviſher, think not thy cruel Violence ſhall procure thee what thy Submiſſions could not obtain; and if when thou hadſt only my In⯑difference to ſurmount, thou didſt find it ſo dif⯑ficult to overcome my Reſolution, now that by this unjuſt Attempt, thou haſt added Averſion to that Indifference, never hope for any Thing but the moſt bitter Reproaches from me.—

Why, Niece, ſaid Sir Charles approaching her, what's the Matter? Look up, I beſeech you, no-body is attempting to do you any Hurt; here's none but Friends about you.

Arabella, raiſing her Head at the Sound of her Uncle's Voice, and caſting a confus'd Look on the Perſons about her,

May I believe my Senſes? Am I reſcu'd, and in my own Chamber? To whoſe Va⯑lour is my Deliverance owing? Without [196] doubt, 'tis to my Couſin's; but where is he? Let me aſſure him of my Gratitude.

Mr. Glanville, who had retir'd to a Window in great Confuſion, as ſoon as he heard her call for him, came towards her, and in a Whiſper begg'd her to be compos'd; that ſhe was in no Danger.

And pray, Niece, ſaid Sir Charles, now you are a little recover'd, be ſo good to inform us of the Cauſe of your Fright. What has hap⯑pen'd to occaſion all this Confuſion?

How, Sir, ſaid Arabella, don't you know then what has happen'd?—Pray how was I brought again into my Chamber, and by what Means was I reſcu'd?

I proteſt, ſaid Sir Charles, I don't know that you have been out of it.

Alas, replied Arabella, I perceive you are quite ignorant of what has befallen me; nor am I able to give you any Information: All I can tell you is, that alarm'd by my Womens Cries, and the Sight of my Raviſher, who came into my Chamber, I fainted away, and ſo faciliated his Enterprize; ſince doubtleſs it was very eaſy for him to carry me away while I remain'd in that ſenſeleſs Condition. How I was reſcu'd, or by whom, one of my Women can haply inform you; ſince its probable one of them was alſo forc'd away with me—Oh Heav'ns! cry'd ſhe, ſeeing Tinſel, who all this while ſtood gazing like one diſtracted; what makes that impious Man in my Preſence! What am I to think of this? Am I really de⯑liver'd or no?

[197] What can this mean, cried Sir Charles, turn⯑ing to Tinſel? Have you, Sir, had any Hand in frighting my Niece?—

I, Sir, ſaid Tinſel! Let me periſh if ever I was ſo confounded in my Life: The Lady's Brain is diſorder'd I believe.

Mr. Glanville, who was convinc'd all this Confuſion was caus'd by ſome of Arabella's uſual Whims, dreaded leſt an Explanation would the more expoſe her; and therefore told his Father, that it would be beſt to retire, and leave his Couſin to the Care of his Siſter and her Wo⯑men; adding, that ſhe was not yet quite reco⯑ver'd, and their Preſence did but diſcompoſe her.

Then addreſſing himſelf to Tinſel, told him he would wait upon him down Stairs.

Arabella ſeeing them going away together, and ſuppoſing they intended to diſpute the Poſ⯑ſeſſion of her with their Swords, call'd out to them to ſtay.

Mr. Glanville however, without minding her, preſs'd Mr. Tinſel to walk down.

Nay, pray, Sir, ſaid the Beau, let us go in again; ſhe may grow outrageous if we diſoblige her.

Outrageous, Sir, ſaid Glanville, do you ſup⯑poſe my Couſin is mad?

Upon my Soul, Sir, replied Tinſel, if ſhe is not mad, ſhe is certainly a little out of her Senſes, or ſo—

Arabella having reiterated her Commands for her Lovers to return, and finding they did not obey her, ran to her Chamber-door, where they were holding a ſurly Sort of Conference, eſpe⯑cially [198] on Glanville's Side, who was horridly out of Humour.

I perceive by your Looks. ſaid Arabella to her Couſin, the Deſign you are meditating; but know that I abſolutely forbid you, by all the Power I have over you, not to engage in Combat with my Raviſher here.

Madam, interrupted Glanville, I beſeech you do not—

I know, ſaid ſhe, you will object to me the Examples of Artamenes, Aronces, and many others, who were ſo generous as to promiſe their Rivals not to refuſe them that Satisfaction whenever they demanded it—but conſider, you have not the ſame Obligations to Mr. Tinſel that Artamenes had to the King of Aſſyria, or that Arances had to—

For God's Sake, Couſin, ſaid Glanville, what's all this to the Purpoſe? Curſe on Aronces and the King of Aſſyria, I ſay—

The Aſtoniſhment of Arabella at this intem⯑perate Speech of her Couſin, kept her for a Mo⯑ment immoveable, when Sir Charles, who du⯑ring this Diſcourſe, had been collecting all the Information he could from Lucy, concerning this perplex'd Affair, came towards Tinſel, and giving him an angry Look, told him, He ſhould take it well if he forbore viſiting any of his Fa⯑mily for the future.

Oh! Your moſt obedient Servant, Sir, ſaid Tinſel: You expect, I ſuppoſe, I ſhould be ex⯑ceſſively chagrin'd at this Prohibition? But up⯑on my Soul, I am greatly oblig'd to you. Agad! I have no great Mind to a Halter: And ſince this Lady is ſo apt to think People have a Deſign [199] to raviſh her, the wiſeſt Thing a Man can do, is to keep out of her Way.

Sir, replied Glanville, who had follow'd him to the Door, I believe there was been ſome little Miſtake in what has happen'd To-day—How⯑ever, I expect you'll take no unbecoming Li⯑berties with the Character of Lady Bella—

Oh! Sir, ſaid Tinſel, I give you my Honour I ſhall always ſpeak of the Lady with the moſt profound Veneration. She is a moſt accom⯑pliſh'd, incomprehenſible Lady: And the De⯑vil take me, if I think there is her Fellow in the World—And ſo, Sir, I am your moſt obedient—

A Word with you before you go, ſaid Glanville ſtopping him—No more of theſe Sneers as you value that ſmooth Face of yours, or I'll deſpoil it of a Noſe.

Oh! Your humble Servant, ſaid the Beau, retiring in great Confuſion, with ſomething be⯑twixt a Smile and a Grin upon his Countenance, which he took Care however Mr. Glanville ſhould not ſee; who as ſoon as he quitted him went again to Arabella's Apartment, in order to prevail upon his Father and Siſter to leave her a little to herſelf, for he dreaded leſt ſome more Inſtances of her Extravagance would put it in⯑to his Father's Head, that ſhe was really out of her Senſes.

Well, Sir, ſaid Arabella upon his Entrance, you have I ſuppoſe, given your Rival his Li⯑berty. I aſſure you this Generoſity is highly agreeable to me—And herein you imitate the noble Artamenes, who upon a like Occaſion, acted as you have done. For when Fortune [200] had put the Raviſher of Mandana in his Power, and he became the Vanquiſher of his Rival, who endeavour'd by Violence to poſſeſs that di⯑vine Princeſs; this truly generous Hero relin⯑quiſh'd the Right he had of diſpoſing of his Pri⯑ſoner, and inſtead of ſacrificing his Life to his juſt and reaſonable Vengeance, he gave a Proof of his admirable Virtue and Clemency by diſ⯑miſſing him in Safety, as you have done. How⯑ever, added ſhe, I hope you have made him ſwear upon your Sword, that he will never make a ſecond Attempt upon my Liberty. I perceive, purſued ſhe, ſeeing Mr. Glanville con⯑tinued ſilent, with his Eyes bent on the Ground, for indeed he was aſham'd to look up; that you would willingly avoid the Praiſe due to the heroick Action you have juſt perform'd— Nay, I ſuppoſe you are reſolv'd to keep it ſecret if poſſible; yet I muſt tell you, that you will not eſcape the Glory due to it. Glory is as neceſſarily the Reſult of a virtuous Action, as Light is an Effect of the Sun which cauſeth it, and has no Dependence on any other Cauſe; ſince a virtuous Action continues ſtill the ſame, tho' it be done without Teſtimony; and Glory, which is, as one may ſay born with it, con⯑ſtantly attends it, tho' the Action be not known.

I proteſt Niece, ſaid Sir Charles, that's very prettily ſaid.

In my Opinion, Sir, purſued Arabella, if any thing can weaken the Glory of a good Action, its the Care a Perſon takes to make it known: As if one did not do Good for the Sake of Good, but for the Praiſe that generally follows it. Thoſe then that are govern'd by [201] ſo intereſted a Motive, ought to be conſider'd as ſordid rather than generous Perſons; who making a Kind of Traffick between Virtue and Glory, barter juſt ſo much of the one for the other and expect like other Merchants, to make Advantage by the Exchange.

Mr. Glanville, who was charm'd into an Ex⯑tacy at this ſenſible Speech of Arabella's, forgot in an Inſtant all her Abſurdities. He did not fail to expreſs his Admiration of her Under⯑ſtanding in Terms that brought a Bluſh into her fair Face, and oblig'd her to lay her Com⯑mands upon him to ceaſe his exceſſive Com⯑mendations. Then making a Sign to them to leave her alone, Mr. Glanville who underſtood her, took his Father and Siſter down Stairs, leaving Arabella with her faithful Lucy, whom ſhe immediately commanded to give her a Re⯑lation of what had happen'd to her from the Time of her ſwooning till ſhe recover'd.

CHAP. XIV.

WHY, Madam, ſaid Lucy, all I can tell your Ladyſhip is, that we were all ex⯑ceſſively frighted, to be ſure, when you faint⯑ed, eſpecially myſelf; and that we did what we could to recover you—And ſo accordingly your Ladyſhip did recover.

[202] What's this to the Purpoſe, ſaid Arabella, perceiving ſhe ſtop'd here? I know that I faint⯑ed, and 'tis alſo very plain that I recover'd again—I ask you what happen'd to me in the intermediate Time between my Fainting and Recovery. Give me a faithful Relation of all the Accidents, to which by my Fainting I am quite a Stranger; and which no doubt, are very conſiderable—

Indeed, Madam, replied Lucy, I have given your Ladyſhip a faithful Relation of all I can remember.

When, reſum'd Arabella ſurpiz'd?—

This Moment, Madam, ſaid Lucy.

Why, ſure thou dream'ſt Wench, replied ſhe, Haſt thou told me how I was ſeiz'd and carry'd off? How I was reſcu'd again? And—

No, indeed, Madam, interrupted Lucy, I don't dream; I never told your Ladyſhip that you was carry'd off.

Well, ſaid Arabella, and why doſt thou not ſatisfy my Curioſity? Is it not fit I ſhould be acquainted with ſuch a momentous Part of my Hiſtory?

I can't indeed, and pleaſe your Ladyſhip, ſaid Lucy.

What, can'ſt thou not, ſaid Arabella, en⯑rag'd at her Stupidity, as ſhe thought it.

Why, Madam, ſaid Lucy ſobbing, I can't make a Hiſtory of nothing.

Of nothing, Wench, reſum'd Arabella, in a greater Rage than before: Doſt thou call an Adventure to which thou was a Witneſs, and boreſt haply ſo great a Share in, nothing?—An Adventure which hereafter will make a conſi⯑derable [203] Figure in the Relation of my Life, doſt thou look upon as triſling and of no Conſe⯑quence?

No, indeed I don't, Madam, ſaid Lucy.

Why then, purſued Arabella, doſt thou wil⯑fully neglect to relate it? Suppoſe, as there is nothing more likely, thou wert commanded by ſome Perſons of conſiderable Quality, or haply ſome great Princes and Princeſſes, to recount the Adventures of my Life, would'ſt thou omit a Circumſtance of ſo much Moment?

No indeed, Madam, ſaid Lucy.

I am glad to hear thou art ſo diſcreet, ſaid Arabella; and pray do me the Favour to relate this Adventure to me, as thou would'ſt do to thoſe Princes and Princeſſes, if thou wert com⯑manded.

Here, Arabella making a full Stop, fix'd her Eyes upon her Woman, expecting every Mo⯑ment ſhe would begin the deſir'd Narrative— But finding ſhe continu'd ſilent longer than ſhe thought was neceſſary for recalling the ſeveral Circumſtances of the Story into her Mind,

I find, ſaid ſhe, it will be neceſſary to cau⯑tion you againſt making your Audience wait too long for your Relation; it looks as if you was to make a ſtudied Speech, not a ſimple Relation of Facts, which ought to be free from all Af⯑fectation of Labour and Art; and be told with that graceful Negligence which is ſo becoming to Truth.

This I thought proper to tell you, added ſhe, that you may not fall into that Miſtake when you are called upon to relate my Adventures— Well, now if you pleaſe to begin—,

[204] What, pray, Madam, ſaid Lucy?

What, repeated Arabella? Why, the Ad⯑ventures which happen'd to me ſo lately. Re⯑late to me every Circumſtance of my being carried away, and how my Deliverance was ef⯑fected by my Couſin.

Indeed, Madam, ſaid Lucy, I know nothing about your Ladyſhip's being carried away. All I know is—

Begone, cried Arabella loſing all Patience at her Obſtinacy, get out of my Preſence this Moment. Wretch, unworthy of my Confi⯑dence and Favour, thy Treaſon is too manifeſt, thou art brib'd by that preſumptuous Man to conceal all the Circumſtances of his Attempt from my Knowleddge, to the End that I may not have a full Conviction of his Guilt.

Lucy, who never ſaw her Lady ſo much of⯑fended before, and knew not the Occaſion of it, burſt into Tears; which ſo affected the tender Heart of Arabella, that loſing inſenſibly all her Anger, ſhe told her with a Voice ſoft⯑en'd to a Tone of the utmoſt Sweetneſs and Condeſcenſion, that provided ſhe would con⯑feſs how far ſhe had been prevail'd upon by his rich Preſents, to forget her Duty, ſhe would pardon and receive her again into Favour—

Speak, added ſhe, and be not afraid after this Promiſe, to let me know what Mr. Tinſel re⯑quir'd of thee, and what were the Gifts with which he purchas'd thy Services: doubtleſs, he preſented thee with Jewels of a conſiderable Value—

Since your Ladyſhip, ſaid Lucy ſobbing, has promis'd not to be angry, I don't care if I do [205] tell your Ladyſhip what he gave me. He gave me this half Guinea, Madam, indeed he did; but for all that, when he would come into your Chamber I ſtruggled with him, and cry'd out, for fear he ſhould carry your Ladyſhip away—

Arabella, loſt in Aſtoniſhment and Shame at hearing of ſo inconſiderable a Preſent made to her Woman, the like of which not one of her Romances could furniſh her, order'd her im⯑mediately to withdraw, not being willing ſhe ſhould obſerve the Confuſion this ſtrange Bribe had given her.

After ſhe had been gone ſome Time, ſhe en⯑deavour'd to compoſe her Looks, and went down to the Dining-Room, where Sir Charles and his Son and Daughter had been engag'd in a Converſation concerning her, the Particulars of which may be found in the firſt Chapter of the next Book.

CHAP. I.

MISS Glanville, who with a mali⯑cious Pleaſure had ſecretly tri⯑umph'd in the Extravagances her beautiful Couſin had been guilty of, was now ſenſibly diſappointed to find they had had ſo little Effect on her Father and Brother; for inſtead of reflecting upon the Abſurdities to which they had been a Witneſs, Mr. Glanville artfully purſu'd the Subject Arabella juſt before had been expatiating upon, taking no⯑tice frequently of ſome Obſervations of hers, and [207] by a well contriv'd Repetition of her Words, oblig'd his Father a ſecond Time to declare that his Niece had ſpoken extremely well.

Mr. Glanville taking the Word, launch'd out into ſuch Praiſes of her Wit, that Miſs Glan⯑ville, no longer able to liſten patiently, reply'd,

'Twas true Lady Bella ſometimes ſaid very ſenſible Things; that 'twas a great Pity ſhe was not always in a reaſonable Way of thinking, or that her Intervals were not longer—

Her Intervals, Miſs, ſaid Glanville, pray what do you mean by that Expreſſion?—

Why, pray, ſaid Miſs Glanville, don't you think my Couſin is ſometimes a little wrong in the Head?

Mr. Glanville at theſe Words ſtarting from his Chair, took a Turn a-croſs the Room in great Diſcompoſure, then ſtopping all of a ſud⯑den, and giving his Siſter a furious Look— Charlotte, ſaid he, don't give me Cauſe to think you are envious of your Couſin's ſuperior Ex⯑cellencies—

Envious, repeated Miſs Glanville, I envious of my Couſin—I vow I ſh [...]uld never have thought of that—Indeed, Brother, you are much miſtaken; my Couſin's ſuperior Excel⯑lencies never gave me a Moment's Diſturbance— Tho' I muſt confeſs her unaccountable Whims have often excited my Pity—

No more of this, Charlotte, interrupted Mr. Glanville, as you value my Friendſhip— No more of it—

Why, really Son, ſaid Sir Charles, my Niece has very ſtrange Whimſies ſometimes. How it came into her Head to think Mr. Tinſel would [208] attempt to carry her away, I can't imagine? For after all, he only preſt rather too rudely into her Chamber, for which, as you ſee, I have ferbidden his Viſits.

That was of a Piece, ſaid Miſs Glanville ſneeringly to her Brother, with her asking you if you had made Mr. Tinſel ſwear upon your Sword, that he would never again attempt to carry her away; and applauding you for having given him his Liberty, as the generous Atermens did on the ſame Occaſion.

I would adviſe you, Charlotte, ſaid Mr. Glan⯑ville, not to aim at repeating your Couſins's Words, till you know how to pronounce them properly.

Oh! that's one of her ſuperior Excellencies, ſaid Miſs Glanville.

Indeed, Miſs, ſaid Glanville very provokingly, ſhe is ſuperior to you in many Things; and as much ſo in the Goodneſs of her Heart, as in the Beauty of her Perſon—

Come, come, Charles, ſaid the Baronet, who obſerv'd his Daughter ſat ſwelling and bi⯑ting her Lip at this Reproach, perſonal Reflecti⯑ons are better avoided. Your Siſter is very well, and not to be diſparag'd; tho' to be ſure, Lady Bella is the fineſt Woman I ever ſaw in my Life.

Miſs Glanville was, if poſſible, more diſguſted at her Father's Palliation than her Brother's Re⯑proaches; and in order to give a Looſe to her Paſſion, accus'd Mr. Glanville of a Decreaſe in his Affection for her, ſince he had been in Love with her Couſin; and having found this Excuſe for her Tears, very freely gave vent to them—

[209] Mr. Glanville being ſoftned by this Sight, ſa⯑crificed a few Compliments to her Vanity, which ſoon reſtor'd her to her uſual Tranquillity; then turning the Diſcourſe on his beloved Ara⯑bella, pronounc'd a Panegyrick on her Virtues and Accompliſhments of an Hour long; which, if it did not abſolutely perſuade his Siſter to change her Opinion, it certainly convinc'd his Father, that his Niece was not only perfectly well in her Underſtanding, but even better than moſt others of her Sex.

Mr. Glanville had juſt finiſh'd her Eulogium, when Arabella appear'd; Joy danc'd in his Eyes at her Approach; he gaz'd upon her with a Kind of conſcious Triumph in his Looks; her conſummate Lovelineſs juſtifying his Paſ⯑ſion, and being in his Opinion, more than an Excuſe for all her Extravagancies.

CHAP. II.

ARABELLA, who at her Entrance had perceiv'd ſome Traces of Uneaſineſs upon Miſs Glanville's Countenance, tenderly ask'd her the Cauſe; to which that young Lady anſwer⯑ing in a cold and reſerv'd Manner, Mr. Glan⯑ville, to divert her Reflexions on it, very freely accus'd himſelf of having given his Siſter ſome Offence. To be ſure, Brother, ſaid Miſs Glanville, [210] you are very vehement in your Temper, and are as violently carry'd away about Things of little Importance as of the greateſt; and then, whatever you have a Fancy for, you love ſo obſtinately.

I am oblig'd to you, Miſs, interrupted Mr. Glanville, for endeavouring to give Lady Bella ſo unfavourable an Opinion of me—

I aſſure you, ſaid Arabella, Miſs Glanville has ſaid nothing to your Diſadvantage: For, in my Opinion, the Temperament of great Minds ought to be ſuch as ſhe repreſents yours to be. For there is nothing at ſo great a Diſtance from true and heroick Virtue, as that Indifference which obliges ſome People to be pleas'd with all Things or nothing: Whence it comes to paſs, that they neither entertain great Deſires of Glo⯑ry, nor Fear of Infamy; that they neither love nor hate; that they are wholly influenc'd by Cuſtom, and are ſenſible only of the Afflictions of the Body, their Minds being in a Manner inſenſible—

To ſay the Truth, I am inclin'd to conceive a greater Hope of a Man, who in the Begin⯑ning of his Life is hurry'd away by ſome evil Habit, than one that faſtens on nothing: The Mind that cannot be brought to deteſt Vice, will never be perſuaded to love Virtue; but one who is capable of loving or hating irreconcile⯑bly, by having, when young, his Paſſions di⯑rected to proper Objects, will remain fix'd in his Choice of what is good. But with him who is incapable of any violent Attraction, and whoſe Heart is chilled by a general Indiffer⯑ence, Precept or Example will have no Force— [211] And Philoſophy itſelf, which boaſts it hath Re⯑medies for all Indiſpoſitions of the Soul, never had any that can cure an indifferent Mind— Nay, added ſhe, I am perſuaded that Indiffe⯑rence is generally the inſeparable Companion of a weak and imperfect Judgment. For it is ſo natural to a Perſon to be carry'd towards that which he believes to be good, that if indifferent People were able to judge of Things, they would faſten on ſomething. But certain it is that this luke-warmneſs of Soul, which ſends ſorth but ſeeble Deſires, ſends alſo but feeble Lights; ſo that thoſe who are guilty of it, not knowing any thing clearly, cannot faſten on any thing with Perſeverance.

Mr. Glanville, when Arabella had finiſh'd this Speech, caſt a triumphing Glance at his Siſter, who had affected great In-attention all the while ſhe had been ſpeaking. Sir Charles in his Way, expreſs'd much Admiration of her Wit, telling her, if ſhe had been a Man, ſhe would have made a great Figure in Parliament, and that her Speeches might have come perhaps to be printed in time.

This Compliment, odd as it was, gave great Joy to Glanville, when the Converſation was interrupted by the Arrival of Mr. Selvin, who had ſlipt away unobſerv'd at the Time that Arabella's Indiſpoſition had alarm'd them, and now came to enquire after her Health; and alſo if an Opportunity offer'd to ſet her right with Regard to the Suſpicions ſhe had entertain'd of his deſigning to pay his Addreſſes to her.

Arabella, as ſoon as he had ſent in his Name, appear'd to be in great Diſturbance; and upon [212] his Entrance, offer'd immediately to withdraw, telling Mr. Glanville, who would have detain'd her, that ſhe found no Place was likely to ſe⯑cure her from the Perſecutions of that Gen⯑tleman.

Glanville ſtar'd, and look'd ſtrangely per⯑plex'd at this Speech; Miſs Glanville ſmil'd, and poor Selvin, with a very ſilly Look—hem'd two or three times, and then with a faultring Accent ſaid, Madam, I am very much con⯑cern'd to find your Ladyſhip reſolv'd to per⯑ſiſt in—

Sir, interrupted Arabella, my Reſolutions are unalterable. I told you ſo before, and am ſurpriz'd, after the Knowledge of my Inten⯑tions, you preſume to appear in my Preſence again, from whence I had ſo poſitively baniſh'd you.

Pray, Niece, ſaid Sir Charles, what has Mr. Selvin done to diſoblige you?

Sir, reply'd Arabella, Mr. Selvin's Offence can admit of no other Reparation than that which I requir'd of him, which was a volun⯑tary Baniſhment from my Preſence: And in this purſu'd ſhe, I am guilty of no more Seve⯑rity to you, than the Princeſs Udoſia was to the unfortunate Thraſimedes. For the Paſſion of this Prince having come to her Knowledge, notwithſtanding the Pains he took to conceal it, this fair and wiſe Princeſs thought it not enough to forbid his ſpeaking to her, but alſo baniſh'd him from her Preſence; laying a peremptory Command upon him, never to appear before her again till he was perfectly cur'd of that un⯑happy Love he had entertain'd for her—Imitate [213] therefore the meritorious Obedience of this poor Prince, and if that Paſſion you profeſs for me—

How, Sir, interrupted Sir Charles, Do you make Love to my Niece then?—

Sir, replied Mr. Selvin, who was ſtrangely confounded at Arabella's Speech, tho' I really admire the Perfections this Lady is poſſeſs'd of, yet I aſſure you, upon my Honour, I never had a Thought of making any Addreſſes to her; and I can't imagine why her Ladyſhip perſiſts in accuſing me of ſuch Preſumption.

So formal a Denial after what Arabella had ſaid, extremely perplex'd Sir Charles, and fill'd Mr. Glanville with inconceivable Shame—

Miſs Glanville enjoy'd their Diſturbance, and full of an ill-natur'd Triumph, endeavour'd to look Arabella into Confuſion: But that Lady not being at all diſcompos'd by this Declaration of Mr. Selvin's, having accounted for it al⯑ready, replied with great Calmneſs,

Sir, 'Tis eaſy to ſee thro' the Artifice of your diſclaiming any Paſſion for me—Upon any other Occaſion queſtionleſs, you would rather ſacri⯑fice your Life, than conſent to diſavow theſe Sentiments, which unhappily for your Peace you have entertain'd. At preſent the Deſire of continuing near me, obliges you to lay this Conſtraint upon yourſelf; however you know Thraſimedes fell upon the ſame Stratagem to no Purpoſe. The rigid Udoſia ſaw thro' the Diſ⯑guiſe, and would not diſpenſe with herſelf from baniſhing him from Rome, as I do you from England—

How, Madam! interrupted Selvin amaz'd—

[214] Yes, Sir, replied Arabella haſtily, nothing leſs can ſatisfy what I owe to the Conſideration of my own Glory.

Upon my Word, Madam, ſaid Selvin, half angry, and yet ſtrongly inclin'd to laugh, I don't ſee the Neceſſity of my quitting my na⯑tive Country, to ſatisfy what you owe to the Conſideration of your own Glory. Pray, how does my ſtaying in England affect your Lady⯑ſhip's Glory?

To anſwer your Queſtion with another, ſaid Arabella, Pray how did the Stay of Thraſimedes in Rome, affect the Glory of the Empreſs Udoſia?

Mr. Selvin was ſtruck dumb with this Speech, for he was not willing to be thought ſo deficient in the Knowledge of Hiſtory, as not to be ac⯑quainted with the Reaſons why Thraſimedes ſhould not ſtay in Rome.

His Silence therefore ſeeming to Arabella to be a tacit Confeſſion of the Juſtice of her Com⯑mands, a Sentiment of Compaſſion for this un⯑fortunate Lover, intruded itſelf into her Mind; and turning her bright Eyes, full of a ſoft Com⯑placency upon Selvin, who ſtar'd at her as if he had loſt his Wits—

I will not, ſaid ſhe, wrong the Sublimity of your Paſſion for me ſo much, as to doubt your being ready to ſacrifice the Repoſe of your own Life to the Satisfaction of mine: Nor will I do ſo much Injuſtice to your Generoſity, as to ſuppoſe the Glory of obeying my Commands, will not in ſome Meaſure ſoften the Rigour of your Deſtiny—I know not whether it may be lawful for me to tell you, that your Misfortune [215] does really cauſe me ſome Affliction; but I am willing to give you this Conſolation, and alſo to aſſure you, that to whatever Part of the World your Deſpair will carry you, the good Wiſhes and Compaſſion of Arabella ſhall follow you—

Having ſaid this, with one of her fair Hands ſhe cover'd her Face, to hide the Bluſhes which ſo compaſſionate a Speech had caus'd—Holding the other extended with a careleſs Air, ſup⯑poſing he would kneel to kiſs it, and bathe it with his Tears, as was the Cuſtom on ſuch me⯑lancholy Occaſions, her Head at the ſamè Time turned another Way, as if reluctantly and with Confuſion ſhe granted this Favour.— But after ſtanding a Moment in this Poſture, and finding her Hand untouch'd, ſhe concluded Grief had depriv'd him of his Senſes, and that he would ſhortly fall into a Swoon as Thraſime⯑des did: And to prevent being a Witneſs of ſo doleful a Sight, ſhe hurry'd out of the Room without once turning about, and having reach'd her own Apartment, ſunk into a Chair, not a little affected with the deplorable Condition in which ſhe had left her ſuppos'd miſerable Lover.

CHAP. III.

THE Company ſhe had left behind her be⯑ing all, except Mr. Glanville, to the laſt Degree ſurpriz'd at her ſtrange Words and [216] Actions, continued mute for ſeveral Minutes after ſhe was gone, ſtaring upon one another, as if each wiſh'd to know the other's Opinion of ſuch an unaccountable Behaviour. At laſt Miſs Glanville, who obſerved her Brother's Back was towards her, told Mr. Selvin in a low Voice, that ſhe hop'd he would call and take his Leave of them before he ſet out for the Place where his Deſpair would carry him.—

Mr. Selvin in ſpite of his natural Gravity, could not forbear laughing at this Speech of Miſs Glanville's, which ſhock'd her Brother, and not being able to ſtay where Arabella was ridicul'd, nor intitled to reſent it, which would have been a manifeſt Injuſtice on that Occaſion, he retir'd to his own Apartment to give vent to that Spleen which in thoſe Moments made him out of Humour with all the World.

Sir Charles, when he was gone, indulg'd himſelf in a little Mirth on his Niece's Extra⯑vagance, proteſting he did not know what to do with her. Upon which Miſs Glanville obſerv'd, that it was a Pity there were not ſuch Things as Proteſtant Nunneries; giving it as her Opi⯑nion, that her Couſin ought to be confin'd in one of thoſe Places, and never ſuffer'd to ſee any Company, by which Means ſhe would avoid expoſing herſelf in the Manner ſhe did now.

Mr. Selvin, who poſſibly thought this a rea⯑ſonable Scheme of Miſs Glanville's, ſeem'd by his Silence to aſſent to her Opinion; but Sir Charles was greatly diſpleas'd with his Daughter for expreſſing herſelf ſo freely; alledging that Arabella, when ſhe was out of thoſe Whims, was a very ſenſible young Lady, and ſometimes. [217] talk'd as learnedly as a Divine. To which Mr. Selvin alſo added, that ſhe had a great Knowledge of Hiſtory, and had a moſt ſur⯑prizing Memory; and after ſome more Diſ⯑courſe to the ſame Purpoſe, he took his Leave, earneſtly entreating Sir Charles to believe that he never entertain'd any Deſign of making his Addreſſes to Lady Bella.

In the mean Time, that Lady after having given near half an Hour to thoſe Reflexions which occur to Heroines in the ſame Situation with herſelf, called for Lucy, and order'd her to go to the Dining-Room, and ſee in what Condition Mr Selvin was, telling her ſhe had certainly left him in a Swoon, as alſo the Oc⯑caſion of it; and bid her give him all the Con⯑ſolation in her Power.

Lucy, with Tears in her Eyes at this Recital, went down as ſhe was order'd, and entering the Room without any Ceremony, her Thoughts being wholly fix'd on the melancholy Circum⯑ſtance her Lady had been telling her; ſhe look'd eagerly round the Room without ſpeaking a Word, till Sir Charles and Miſs Glanville, who thought ſhe had been ſent with ſome Meſſage from Arabella, ask'd her both at the ſame In⯑ſtant, What ſhe wanted?—

I came, Sir, ſaid Lucy, repeating her Lady's Words, to ſee in what Condition Mr. Selvin is in, and to give him all the Solation in my Power.

Sir Charles, laughing heartily at this Speech, ask'd her what ſhe could do for Mr. Selvin? To which ſhe reply'd, ſhe did not know; but [218] her Lady had told her to give him all the Sola⯑tion in her Power.

Conſolation thou would'ſt ſay, I ſuppoſe, ſaid Sir Charles.

Yes, Sir, ſaid Lucy curteſying. Well, Child, added he, go up and tell your Lady, Mr. Selvin does not need any Conſolation.

Lucy accordingly return'd with this Meſſage, and was met at the Chamber-Door by Arabella, who haſtily ask'd her if Mr. Selvin was reco⯑ver'd from his Swoon: To which Lucy reply'd that ſhe did not know; but that Sir Charles bid her tell her Ladyſhip, Mr. Selvin did not need any Conſolation.

Oh Heavens! cry'd Arabella, throwing her⯑ſelf into a Chair as pale as Death—He is dead, he has fallen upon his Sword, and put an End to his Life and Miſeries at once—Oh! how un⯑happy am I, cry'd ſhe, burſting into Tears, to be the Cauſe of ſo cruel an Accident—Was ever any Fate ſo terrible as mine—Was ever Beauty ſo fatal—Was ever Rigour ſo unfortu⯑nate—How will the Quiet of my future Days be diſturbed by the ſad Remembrance of a Man whoſe Death was cauſed by my Diſdain—But why, reſum'd ſhe after a little Pauſe—Why do I thus afflict myſelf for what has happen'd by an unavoidable Neceſſity? Nor am I ſingular in the Misfortune which has befallen me—Did not the ſad Perinthus die for the beautiful Panthea— Did not the Rigour of Barſina bring the miſe⯑rable Oxyatres to the Grave—And the Severity of Statira make Oroondates fall upon his Sword in her Preſence, tho' happily he eſcap'd being kill'd by it—Let us then not afflict ourſelves [219] unreaſonably at this ſad Accident—Let us la⯑ment as we ought the fatal Effects of our Charms—But let us comfort ourſelves with the Thought that we have only acted conformable to our Duty.

Arabella having pronounc'd theſe laſt Words with a ſolemn and lofty Accent, order'd Lucy, who liſten'd to her with Eyes drown'd in Tears, to go down and ask if the Body was remov'd— for added ſhe, all my Conſtancy will not be ſufficient to ſupport me againſt that pitiful Sight.

Lucy accordinly deliver'd her Meſſage to Sir Charles and Miſs Glanville, who were ſtill together, diſcourſing on the fantaſtical Turn of Arabella, when the Knight, who could not poſſibly comprehend what ſhe meant by asking if the Body was removed, bid her tell her Lady he deſired to ſpeak with her.

Arabella, upon receiving this Summons, ſet herſelf to conſider what could be the Intent of it. If Mr. Selvin be dead, ſaid ſhe, what Good can my Preſence do among them? Surely it cannot be to upbraid me with my Severity, that my Uncle deſires to ſee me—No, it would be unjuſt to ſuppoſe it. Queſtionleſs my unhappy Lover is ſtill ſtruggling with the Pangs of Death, and for a Conſolation in his laſt Moments, im⯑plores the Favour of reſigning up his Life in my Sight. Pauſing a little at theſe Words, ſhe roſe from her Seat with a Reſolution to give the un⯑happy Selvin her Pardon before he dy'd. Meet⯑ing Mr. Glanville as he was returning from his Chamber to the Dining-Room, ſhe told him, ſhe hop'd the Charity ſhe was going to diſcover [220] towards his Rival, would not give him any Uneaſineſs; and preventing his Reply by going haſtily into the Room, he follow'd her dreading ſome new Extravagance, yet not able to prevent it, endeavour'd to conceal his Confuſion from her Obſervation—Arabella after breathing a gentle Sigh told told Sir Charles, that ſhe was come to grant Mr. Selvin her Pardon for the Offence he had been guilty of, that he might depart in Peace.

Well, well, ſaid Sir Charles, he is departed in Peace without it.

How, Sir, interrupted Arabella, is he dead then already? Alas! why had he not the Satis⯑faction of ſeeing me before he expir'd, that his Sould might have departed in Peace! He would have been aſſur'd not only of my Pardon, but Pity alſo; and that Aſſurance would have made him happy in his laſt Moments.

Why, Niece, interrupted Sir Charles ſtaring, you ſurprize me prodigiouſly: Are you in earneſt?

Queſtionleſs I am, Sir, ſaid ſhe, nor ought you to be ſurpriz'd at the Concern I expreſs for the Fate of this unhappy Man, nor at the Pardon I propos'd to have granted him; ſince herein I am juſtified by the Example of many great and virtuous Princeſſes, who have done as much, nay, haply more than I intended to have done, for Perſons whoſe Offences were greater than Mr. Selvin's.

I am very ſorry, Madam, ſaid Sir Charles, to hear you talk in this Manner: 'Tis really enough to make one ſuſpect you are—

[221] You do me great Injuſtice, Sir, interrupted Arabella, if you ſuſpect me to be guilty of any unbecoming Weakneſs for this Man: If barely expreſſing my Compaſſion for his Misfortunes be eſteem'd ſo great a Favour, what would you have thought if I had ſupported his Head on my Knees while he was dying, ſhed Tears over him, and diſcover'd all the Tokens of a ſincere Affliction for him?—

Good God! ſaid Sir Charles lifting up his Eyes, Did any body ever hear of any thing like this?

What, Sir, ſaid Arabella, with as great an Appearance of Surprize in her Countenance as his had diſcover'd, Do you ſay you never heard of any thing like this? Then you never heard of the Princeſs of Media, I ſuppoſe—

No, not I, Madam, ſaid Sir Charles peeviſhly.

Then, Sir, reſum'd Arabella, permit me to tell you, that this fair and virtuous Princeſs condeſcended to do all I have mention'd for the fierce Labynet, Prince of Aſſyria; who tho' he had mortally offended her by ſtealing her away out of the Court of the King her Father, ne⯑vertheleſs, when he was wounded to Death in her Preſence, and humbly implor'd her Pardon before he died, ſhe condeſcended as I have ſaid, to ſupport him on her Knees, and ſhed Tears for his Diſaſter—I could produce many more Inſtances of the like Compaſſion in Ladies al⯑moſt as highly born as herſelf, tho' perhaps their Quality was not quite ſo illuſtrious, ſhe being the Heireſs of two powerful Kingdoms. Yet to mention only theſe—

[222] Good Heav'ns! cry'd Mr. Glanville here, being quite out of Patience, I ſhall go di⯑ſtracted—

Arabella ſurpriz'd at this Exclamation, look'd earneſtly at him for a Moment—and then ask'd him, Whether any thing ſhe had ſaid had given him Uneaſineſs?

Yes, upon my Soul, Madam, ſaid Glanville ſo vex'd and confus'd that he hardly knew what he ſaid—

I am ſorry for it, reply'd Arabella gravely, and alſo am greatly concern'd to find that in Generoſity you are ſo much exceeded by the il⯑luſtrious Cyrus; who was ſo far from taking Umbrage at Mandana's Behaviour to the dying Prince, that he commended her for the Com⯑paſſion ſhe had ſhewn him. So alſo did the brave and generous Oroondates, when the fair Statira—

By Heav'ns! cry'd Glanville riſing in a Paſ⯑ſion, there's no hearing this. Pardon me, Madam, but upon my Soul, you'll make me hang myſelf.

Hang yourſelf, repeated Arabella, ſure you know not what you ſay?—You meant, I ſup⯑poſe, that you'll fall upon your Sword. What Hero ever threatned to give himſelf ſo vulgar a Death? But pray let me know the Cauſe of your Deſpair, ſo ſudden and ſo violent.

Mr. Glanville continuing in a ſort of ſullen Silence, Arabella raiſing her Voice went on:

Tho' I do not conceive myſelf oblig'd to give you an Account of my Conduct, ſeeing that I have only permitted you yet to hope for my Favour; yet I owe to myſelf and my own [223] Honour the Juſtification I am going to make. Know then, that however ſuſpicious my Com⯑paſſion for Mr. Selvin may appear to your mi⯑ſtaken Judgment, yet it has its Foundation only in the Generoſity of my Diſpoſition, which inclines me to pardon the Fault when the un⯑happy Criminal repents; and to afford him my Pity when his Circumſtances require it. Let not therefore the Charity I have diſcover'd to⯑wards your Rival, be the Cauſe of your De⯑ſpair, ſince my Sentiments for him were he living, would be what they were before; that is, full of Indifference, nay, haply Diſdain. And ſuffer not yourſelf to be ſo carried away by a violent and unjuſt Jealouſy, as to threaten your won Death, which if you really had any Ground for your Suſpicions, and truly lov'd me, would come unſought for, tho' not undeſir'd— For indeed, was your Deſpair reaſonable, Death would neceſſarily follow it; for what Lover can live under ſo deſperate a Misfortune. In that Caſe you may meet Death undauntedly when it comes, nay, embrace it with Joy; but truly the killing one's ſelf is but a falſe Picture of true Courage, proceeding rather from Fear of a fur⯑ther Evil, than Contempt of that you fly to: For if it were a Contempt of Pain, the ſame Principle would make you reſolve to bear pa⯑tiently and fearleſly all kind of Pains; and Hope being of all other the moſt contrary Thing to Fear, this being an utter Baniſhment of Hope, ſeems to have its Ground in Fear.

CHAP. IV.

ARABELLA, when ſhe had finiſh'd theſe Words, which baniſh'd in part Mr. Glan⯑ville's Confuſion, went to her own Apartment, follow'd by Miſs Glanville, to whom ſhe had made a Sign for that Purpoſe; and throwing herſelf into a Chair, burſt into Tears, which greatly ſurprizing Miſs Glanville, ſhe preſt her to tell her the Cauſe.

Alas! reply'd Arabella, have I not Cauſe to think myſelf extremely unhappy? The deplo⯑rable Death of Mr. Selvin, the Deſpair to which I ſee your Brother reduc'd, with the fatal Con⯑ſequences which may attend it, fills me with a mortal Uneaſineſs.

Well, ſaid Miſs Glanville, your Ladyſhip may make yourſelf quite eaſy as to both theſe Matters; for Mr. Selvin is not dead, nor is my Brother in Deſpair that I know of.

What do you ſay, Miſs, interrupted Arabella, is not Mr. Selvin dead? Was the Wound he gave himſelf not mortal then?

I know of no Wound that he gave himſelf, not I, ſaid Miſs Glanville; what makes your Ladyſhip ſuppoſe he gave himſelf a Wound▪ Lord bleſs me, what ſtrange Thoughts come into your Head.

Truly I am rejoic'd to hear it, reply'd Ara⯑bella; and in order to prevent the Effects of his Deſpair, I'll inſtantly diſpatch my Commands to him to live.

[225] I dare anſwer for his Obedience, Madam, ſaid Miſs Glanville ſmiling.

Arabella then gave Orders for Paper and Pens to be brought her, and ſeeing Mr. Glanville en⯑ter the Room, very formally acquainted him with her Intention, telling him, that he ought to be ſatisfy'd with the Baniſhment to which ſhe had doom'd his unhappy Rival, and not re⯑quire his Death, ſince he and nothing to fear from his Pretenſions.

I aſſure you, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville, I am perfectly eaſy upon that Account: And in order to ſpare you the Trouble of ſending to Mr. Selvin, I may venture to aſſure you that he is in no Danger of dying.

'Tis impoſſible, Sir, reply'd Arabella, ac⯑cording to the Nature of Things, 'tis impoſſi⯑ble but he muſt already be very near Death— You know the Rigour of my Sentence, you know—

I know, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville, that Mr. Selvin does not think himſelf under a Ne⯑ceſſity of obeying your Sentence; and has the Impudence to queſtion your Authority for ba⯑niſhing him from his native Country.

My Authority, Sir, ſaid Arabella ſtrangely ſurpriz'd, is founded upon the abſolute Power he has given me over him.

He denies that, Madam, ſaid Glanville, and ſays that he neither can give, nor you exerciſe an abſolute Power over him; ſince you are both accountable to the King, whoſe Subjects you are, and both reſtrain'd by the Laws un⯑der whoſe Sanction you live.

[226] Arabella's apparent Confuſion at theſe Words giving Mr. Glanville Hopes that he had fallen upon a proper Method to cure her of ſome of her ſtrange Notions, he was going to purſue his Arguments, when Arabella looking a little ſternly upon him,

The Empire of Love, ſaid ſhe, like the Em⯑pire of Honour, is govern'd by Laws of its own, which have no Dependence upon, or Re⯑lation to any other.

Pardon me, Madam, ſaid Glanville, if I pre⯑ſume to differ from you. Our Laws have fix'd the Boundaries of Honour as well as thoſe of Love.

How is that poſſible, reply'd Arabella, when they differ ſo widely, that a Man may be juſti⯑fy'd by the one, and yet condemn'd by the other? For Inſtance, purſued ſhe, you are not permitted by the Laws of the Land to take away the Life of any Perſon whatever; yet the Laws of Honour oblige you to hunt your Ene⯑my thro' the World, in order to ſacrifice him to your Vengeance. Since it is impoſſible then for the ſame Actions to be at once juſt and un⯑juſt, it muſt neceſſarily follow, that the Law which condemns it, and that which juſtifies it is not the ſame, but directly oppoſite—And now, added ſhe, after a little Pauſe, I hope I have entirely clear'd up that Point to you.

You have indeed, Madam, reply'd Mr. Glan⯑ville, proved to a Demonſtration, that what is called Honour is ſomething diſtinct from Ju⯑ſtice, ſince they command Things abſolutely oppoſite to each other.

[227] Arabella without reflecting on this Inference, went on to prove the independent Sovereignty of Love, which, ſaid ſhe, may be collected from all the Words and Actions of thoſe Heroes who were inſpir'd by this Paſſion. We ſee it in them, purſued ſhe, triumphing not only over all natural and avow'd Allegiance, but ſuperior even to Friendſhip, Duty, and Honour itſelf. This the Actions of Oroondates, Artaxerxes, Spitridates, and many other illuſtrious Princes ſufficiently teſtify.

Love requires a more unlimited Obedience from its Slaves, than any other Monarch can expect from his Subjects; an Obedience which is circumſcrib'd by no Laws whatever, and de⯑pendent upon nothing but itſelf.

I ſhall live, Madam, ſays the renowned Prince of Scythia to the divine Statira, I ſhall live, ſince it is your Command I ſhould do ſo; and Death can have no Power over a Life which you are pleas'd to take Care of—

Say only that you wiſh I ſhould conquer, ſaid the great Juba to the incomparable Cleo⯑patra, and my Enemies will be already van⯑quiſh'd —Victory will come over to the Side you favour—and an Army of a hundred thou⯑ſand Men will not be able to overcome the Man who has your Commands to conquer—

How mean and inſignificant, purſued ſhe, are the Titles beſtow'd on other Monarchs com⯑par'd with thoſe which dignify the Sovereigns of Hearts, ſuch as divine Arbitreſs of my Fate, Viſible Divinity, Earthly Goddeſs, and many others equally ſublime—

[228] Mr. Glanville loſing all patience at her obſti⯑nate Folly, interrupted her here with a Queſtion quite foreign to the Subject ſhe was diſcuſſing, and ſoon after quitting her Chamber, retir'd to his own, more than ever deſpairing of her Re⯑covery.

CHAP. V.

MISS Glanville, whoſe Envy and Diſlike of her lovely Couſin was heighten'd by her Suſpicions that ſhe diſputed with her the Poſſeſſion of Sir George's Heart, ſhe having been long in reality a great Admirer of that gay Gentleman, was extremely delighted with the Ridicule her abſurd Behaviour had drawn upon her at Bath, which ſhe found by Enquiry was thro' Mr. Tinſel's Repreſentation grown almoſt general.

In order therefore to be at Liberty to go to the Publick Places un-eclips'd by the ſuperior Beau⯑ty of Arabella, ſhe acquainted her Father and Brother with Part of what ſhe had heard, which determin'd them to prevent that young Lady's Appearance in Publick while they ſtaid at Bath; this being no difficult Matter to bring about, ſince Arabella only went to the Rooms or Pa⯑rade in Compliance with the Invitation of her Couſins.

[229] Miſs Glanville being by theſe Means rid of a Rival too powerful even to contend with, went with more than uſual Gaiety to the Aſſembly, where the Extravagancies of Arabella afforded a perpetual Fund for Diverſion. Her more than paſſive Behaviour upon this Occaſion, ba⯑niſhing all Reſtraint among thoſe ſhe convers'd with, the Jeſt circulated very freely at Arabella's Expence. Nor did Miſs Glanville fail to give new Poignancy to their Sarcaſms, by artfully diſcloſing the bent of her Couſin's Studies, and enumerating the many Abſurdities they had made her guilty of.

Arabella's uncommon Beauty had gain'd her ſo many Enemies among the Ladies that com⯑pos'd this Aſſembly, that they ſeem'd to con⯑tend with each other who ſhould ridicule her moſt. The celebrated Counteſs of—be⯑ing then at Bath, approach'd a Circle of theſe fair Defamers, and liſtning a few Moments to the contemptuous Jeſts they threw out againſt the abſent Beauty, declar'd herſelf in her Fa⯑vour; which in a Moment, ſuch was the Force of her univerſally acknowledg'd Merit, and the Deference always pay'd to her Opinion, ſilenc'd every pretty Impertinent around her.

This Lady, who among her own Sex had no Superior in Wit, Elegance, and Eaſe, was in⯑ferior to very few of the other in Senſe, Learn⯑ing, and Judgment. Her Skill in Poetry, Painting, and Muſick, tho' inconteſtably great, was number'd among the leaſt of her Accom⯑pliſhments. Her Candour, her Sweetneſs, her Modeſty and Benevolence, while they ſecur'd her from the Darts of Envy, render'd her ſu⯑perior [230] to Praiſe, and made the one as unneceſ⯑ſary as the other ineffectual.

She had been a Witneſs of the Surprize Arabella's extraordinary Appearance had occa⯑ſion'd, and ſtruck with that as well as the un⯑common Charms of her Perſon, had preſt near her with ſeveral others of the Company, when ſhe was diſcourſing in the Manner we have re⯑lated.

A Perſon of the Counteſs's nice Diſcern⯑ment could not fail of obſerving the Wit and Spirit, which tho' obſcur'd, was not abſo⯑lutely hid under the Abſurdity of her No⯑tions. And this Diſcovery adding Eſteem to the Compaſſion ſhe felt for the fair Viſionary, ſhe reſolv'd to reſcue her from the ill-natur'd Raillery of her Sex; praiſing therefore her Underſtanding, and the Beauty of her Perſon with a Sweetneſs and Generoſity peculiar to herſelf, ſhe accounted in the moſt delicate Manner imaginable for the Singularity of her Notions, from her Studies, her Retirment, her Ignorance of the World, and her lively Ima⯑gination. And to abate the Keenneſs of their Sarcaſms, acknowledg'd, that ſhe herſelf had when very young, been deep read in Roman⯑ces; and but for an early Acquaintance with the World, and being directed to other Studies, was likely to have been as much a Heroine as Lady Bella.

Miſs Glanville, tho' ſhe was ſecretly vex'd at this Defence of her Couſin, was however under a Neceſſity of ſeeming oblig'd to the Counteſs for it: And that Lady expreſſing a Deſire to be acquainted with Lady Bella, Miſs Glanville [231] reſpectfully offer'd to attend her Couſin to her Lodgings, which the Counteſs as reſpectfully declin'd, ſaying, As Lady Bella was a Stranger, ſhe would make her the firſt Viſit.

Miſs Glanville at her Return gave her Bro⯑ther an Account of what had happen'd at the Aſſembly, and fill'd him with an inconceivable Joy at the Counteſs's Intention. He had al⯑ways been a zealous Admirer of that Lady's Character, and flatter'd himſelf that the Con⯑verſation of ſo admirable a Woman would be of the utmoſt Uſe to Arabella.

That very Night he mention'd her to his be⯑loved Couſin; and after enumerating all her fine Qualities, declar'd that ſhe had already con⯑ceiv'd a Friendſhip for her, and was ſolicitous of her Acquaintance.

I think myſelf extremely fortunate, replied Arabella, in that I have (tho' queſtionleſs un⯑deſervedly) acquir'd the Amity of this lovely Perſon; and I beg you, purſued ſhe to Miſs Glanville, to tell her, that I long with Impa⯑tience to embrace her, and to give her that Share in my Heart which her tranſcendent Me⯑rit deſerves.

Miſs Glanville only bow'd her Head in An⯑ſwer to this Requeſt, giving her Brother at the ſame Time a ſignificant Leer; who tho' uſed to Arabella's Particularities, could not help be⯑ing a little confounded at the heroick Speech ſhe had made.

CHAP. VI.

THE Counteſs was as good as her Word, and two Days after ſent a Card to Ara⯑bella, importing her Deſign to wait on her that Afternoon.

Our Heroine expected her with great Impa⯑tience, and the Moment ſhe enter'd the Room flew towards her with a graceful Eagerneſs, and ſtraining her in her Arms, embrac'd her with all the Fervour of a long abſent Friend.

Sir Charles and Mr. Glanville were equally embarraſs'd at the Familiarity of this Addreſs; but obſerving that the Counteſs ſeem'd not to be ſurpriz'd at it, but rather to receive it with Pleaſure, they were ſoon compos'd.

You cannot imagine, lovely Stranger, ſaid Arabella to the Counteſs, as ſoon as they were ſeated, with what Impatience I have long'd to behold you, ſince the Knowledge I have receiv'd of your rare Qualities, and the Friendſhip you have been pleas'd to honour me with—And I may truly proteſt to you, that ſuch is my Ad⯑miration of your Virtues, that I would have gone to the fartheſt Part of the World to ren⯑der you that which you with ſo much Genero⯑ſity have condeſcended to beſtow upon me.

Sir Charles ſtar'd at this extraordinary Speech, and not being able to comprehend a Word of it, was concern'd to think how the Lady to whom it was addreſs'd would underſtand it.

[233] Mr. Glanville look'd down, and bit his Nails in extreme Confuſion; but the Counteſs who had not forgot the Language of Romance, re⯑turn'd the Compliment in a Strain as heroick as hers.

The Favour I have receiv'd from For⯑tune, ſaid, ſhe, in bringing me to the Happineſs of your Acquaintance, charming Arabella, is ſo great, that I may rationally expect ſome ter⯑rible Misfortune will befall me: Seeing that in this Life our Pleaſures are ſo conſtantly ſucceed⯑ed by Pains, that we hardly ever enjoy the one without ſuffering the other ſoon after.

Arabella was quite tranſported to hear the Counteſs expreſs herſelf in Language ſo con⯑formable to her own; but Mr. Glanville was greatly confounded, and began to ſuſpect ſhe was diverting herſelf with his Couſin's Singularities: And Sir Charles was within a little of thinking her as much out of the Way as his Niece.

Misfortunes, Madam, ſaid Arabella, are too often the Lot of excellent Perſons like yourſelf. The ſublimeſt among Mortals both for Beauty and Virtue have experienc'd the Frowns of Fate. The Sufferings of the divine Statira or Caſſan⯑dra, for ſhe bore both Names, the Perſecutions of the incomparable Cleopatra, the Diſſreſſes of the beautiful Cundace, and the Afflictions of the fair and generous Mandana, are Proofs that the moſt illuſtrious Perſons in the World have felt the Rage of Calamity.

It muſt be confeſs'd, ſaid the Counteſs, that all thoſe fair Princeſſes you have nam'd, were for a while extremely unfortunate: Yet in the Catalogue of theſe lovely and afflicted Perſons [234] you have forgot one who might with Juſtice diſpute the Priority of Sufferings with them all— I mean the beautiful Eliſa, Princeſs of Parthia.

Pardon me, Madam, reply'd Arabella, I can⯑not be of your Opinion. The Princeſs of Par⯑thia may indeed juſtly be rank'd among the Number of unfortunate Perſons, but ſhe can by no means diſpute the melancholy Precedence with the divine Cleopatra—For in fine, Madam, what Evils did the Princeſs of Parthia ſuffer which the fair Cleopatra did not likewiſe en⯑dure, and ſome of them haply in a greater De⯑gree? If Eliſa by the tyrannical Authority of the King her Father, ſaw herſelf upon the Point of becoming the Wife of a Prince ſhe deteſted, was not the beautiful Daughter of Antony, by the more unjuſtifiable Tyranny of Auguſtus, likely to be forced into the Arms of Tyberius, a proud and cruel Prince, who was odious to the whole World as well as to her? If Eliſa was for ſome time in the Power of Pyrates, was not Cleo⯑patra Captive to an inhuman King, who pre⯑ſented his Sword to the fair Breaſt of that di⯑vine Princeſs worthy the Adoration of the whole Earth? And in fine, if Eliſa had the Grief to ſee her dear Artaban impriſon'd by the Order of Auguſtus, Cleopatra beheld with mor⯑tal Agonies, her beloved Coriolanus inclos'd amidſt the Guards of that enrag'd Prince, and doom'd to a cruel Death.

'Tis certain, Madam, reply'd the Counteſs, that the Misfortunes of both theſe Princeſſes were very great, tho' as you have ſhew'd me with ſome Inequality: And when one reflects upon the dangerous Adventures to which Per⯑ſons [235] of their Quality were expos'd in thoſe Times, one cannot help rejoicing that we live in an Age in which the Cuſtoms, Manners, Habits, and Inclinations differ ſo widely from theirs, that 'tis impoſſible ſuch Adventures ſhould even happen.

Such is the ſtrange Alteration of Things, that ſome People I dare ſay at preſent, cannot be per⯑ſuaded to believe there ever were Princeſſes wan⯑dering thro' the World by Land and Sea in mean Diſguiſes, carry'd away violently out of their Fa⯑ther's Dominions by inſolent Lovers—Some diſcover'd ſleeping in Foreſts, other Shipwreck'd on deſolate Iſlands, confin'd in Caſtles, bound in Chariots, and even ſtrugling amidſt the tem⯑peſtuous Waves of the Sea, into which they had caſt themſelves to avoid the brutal Force of their-Raviſhers. Not one of theſe Things hav⯑ing happen'd within the Compaſs of ſeveral thouſand Years, People unlearn'd in Antiquity would be apt to deem them idle Tales, ſo im⯑probable do they appear at preſent.

Arabella, tho' greatly ſurpriz'd at this Diſ⯑courſe, did not think proper to expreſs her Thoughts of it. She was unwilling to appear abſolutely ignorant of the preſent Cuſtoms of the World, before a Lady whoſe good Opinion ſhe was ardently deſirous of improving. Her Prepoſſeſſions in favour of the Counteſs made her receive the new Delights ſhe held out to her with Reſpect, tho' not without Doubt and Ir⯑reſolution. Her Bluſhes, her Silence, and down-caſt Eyes gave the Counteſs to underſtand Part of her Thoughts; who for fear of alarm⯑ing her too much for that Time, dropt the [236] Subject, and turning the Converſation on others more general, gave Arabella an Opportunity of mingling in it with that Wit and Vivacity which was natural to her when Romances were out of the Queſtion.

CHAP. VII.

THE Counteſs, charm'd with the Wit and good Senſe of Arabella, could not conceal her Admiration, but expreſt it in Terms the moſt obligingly imaginable: And Arabella, who was exceſſively delighted with her, return'd the Compliments ſhe made her with the moſt reſpectful Tenderneſs.

In the midſt of theſe mutual Civilities, Arabella in the Style of Romance, intreated the Counteſs to favour her with the Recital of her Adventures.

At the Mention of this Requeſt, that Lady convey'd ſo much Confuſion into her Counte⯑nance, that Arabella extremely embarraſs'd by it, tho' ſhe knew not why, thought it neceſ⯑ſary to apologize for the Diſturbance ſhe ſeem'd to have occaſion'd in her.

Pardon me, Madam, reply'd the Counteſs recovering herſelf, if the uncommoneſs of your Requeſt made a Moment's Reflexion neceſſary [237] to [...] that a young Lady of your Senſe and Delicacy could mean no Offence to Decorum by making it. The Word Adven⯑tures carries in it ſo free and licentious a Sound in the Apprehenſions of People at this Period of Time, that it can hardly with Propriety be apply'd to thoſe few and natural Incidents which compoſe the Hiſtory of a Woman of Honour. And when I tell you, purſued ſhe with a Smile, that I was born and chriſten'd, had a uſeful and proper Education, receiv'd the Addreſſes of my Lord—through the Recommendation of my Parents, and marry'd him with their Conſents and my own Inclination; and that ſince we have liv'd in great Harmony together, I have told you all the material Paſſages of my Life, which upon Enquiry you will find differ very little from thoſe of other Women of the ſame Rank, who have a moderate Share of Senſe, Prudence and Virtue.

Since you have already, Madam, replied Arabella bluſhing, excus'd me for the Liberty I took with you, it will be un-neceſſary to tell you it was grounded upon the Cuſtoms of an⯑tient Times, when Ladies of the higheſt Rank and ſublimeſt Virtue, were often expos'd to a Variety of cruel Adventures which they im⯑parted in Confidence to each other, when Chance brought them together.

Cuſtom, ſaid the Counteſs ſmiling, changes the very Nature of Things, and what was honour⯑able a thouſand Years ago, may probably be look'd upon as infamous now—A Lady in the heroick Age you ſpeak of, would not be thought to poſ⯑ſeſs any great Share of Merit, if ſhe had not [238] been many times carried away by one or other of her inſolent Lovers: Whereas a Beauty in this could not paſs thro' the Hands of ſeveral different Raviſhers, without bringing an Impu⯑tation on her Chaſtity.

The ſame Actions which made a Man a Hero in thoſe Times, would conſtitute him a Murderer in Theſe—And the ſame Steps which led him to a Throne Then, would infallibly conduct him to a Scaffold Now.

But Cuſtom, Madam, ſaid Arabella, cannot poſſibly change the Nature of Virtue or Vice: And ſince Virtue is the chief Characteriſtick of a Hero, a Hero in the laſt Age will be a Hero in this—Tho' the Natures of Virtue or Vice cannot be changed, replied the Counteſs, yet they may be miſtaken; and different Princi⯑ples, Cuſtoms, and Education, may probably change their Names, if not their Natures.

Sure, Madam, ſaid Arabella a little moved, you do not intend by this Inference to prove Oroondates, Artaxerxes, Juba, Artaban, and the other Heroes of Antiquity, bad Men?

Judging them by the Rules of Chriſtianity, and our preſent Notions of Honour, Juſtice, and Humanity, they certainly are, replied the Counteſs.

Did they not poſſeſs all the neceſſary Quali⯑fications of Heroes, Madam, ſaid Arabella, and each in a ſuperlative Degree?—Was not their Valour invincible, their Generoſity unbounded, and their Fidelity inviolable?

It cannot be denied, ſaid the Counteſs, but that their Valour was invincible; and many thouſand Men leſs courageous than themſelves, [239] felt the fatal Effects of that invincible Valour, which was perpetually ſeeking after Occaſions to exert itſelf. Oroondates gave many extraor⯑dinary Proofs of that unbounded Generoſity ſo natural to the Heroes of his Time. This Prince being ſent by the King his Father, at the Head of an Army, to oppoſe the Perſian Monarch, who had unjuſtly invaded his Dominions, and was deſtroying the Lives and Properties of his Subjects; having taken the Wives and Daugh⯑ters of his Enemy Priſoners, had by theſe Means an Opportunity to put a Period to a War ſo deſtructive to his Country: Yet out of a Ge⯑neroſity truly heroick, he releas'd them imme⯑diately without any Conditions; and falling in Love with one of thoſe Princeſſes, ſecietly quitted his Father's Court, reſided ſeveral Years in that of the Enemy of his Father and Coun⯑try, engag'd himſelf to his Daughter, and when the War broke out again between the two Kings, fought furiouſly againſt an Army in which the King his Father was in Perſon, and ſhed the Blood of his future Subjects without Remorſe; tho' each of thoſe Subjects, we are told, would have ſacrific'd his Life to ſave that of their Prince, ſo much was he belov'd▪ Such are the Actions which immortalize the Heroes of Romance, and are by the Authors of thoſe Books ſtyl'd glorious, godlike, and di⯑vine. Yet judging of them as Chriſtians, we ſhall find them impious and baſe, and directly oppoſite to our preſent Notions of moral and re⯑lative Duties.

'Tis certain therefore, Madam, added the Conteſs with a Smile, that what was Virtue in [240] thoſe Days, is Vice in ours: And to form a Hero according to our Notions of 'em at pre⯑ſent, 'tis neſſary to give him Qualities very dif⯑ferent from Oroondates.

The ſecret Charm in the Countenance, Voice, and Manner of the Counteſs, join'd to the Force of her reaſoning, could not fail of mak⯑ing ſome Impreſſion on the Mind of Arabella; but it was ſuch an Impreſſion as came far ſhort of Conviction. She was ſurpriz'd embarraſs'd, perplex'd, but not convinc'd. Heroiſm, roman⯑tick Heroiſm, was deeply rooted in her Heart; it was her Habit of thinking, a Principle im⯑bib'd from Education. She could not ſeparate her Ideas of Glory, Virtue, Courage, Gene⯑roſity, and Honour, from the falſe Repreſenta⯑tions of them in the Actions of Oroondates, Juba, Artaxerxes, and the reſt of the imaginary Heroes. The Counteſs's Diſcourſe had rais'd a Kind of Tumult in her Thoughts, which gave an Air of Perplexity to her lovely Face, and made that Lady apprehenſive ſhe had gone too far, and loſt that Ground in her Eſteem, which ſhe had endeavour'd to acquire by a Conformity to ſome of her Notions and Language. In this however, ſhe was miſtaken; Arabella felt a Tenderneſs for her that had already the Force of a long contracted Friendſhip, and an Eſteem little leſs than Veneration.

When the Counteſs took Leave, the Profeſ⯑sions of Arabella, tho' deliver'd in the Language of Romance, were very ſincere and affecting, and were return'd with an equal Degree of Tenderneſs by the Counteſs, who had conceiv'd a more than ordinary Affection for her.

[241] Mr. Glanville who could have almoſt wor⯑ſhip'd the Counteſs for the generous Deſign be ſaw ſhe had entertain'd, took an Opportunity as he handed her to her Chair, to intreat in a Manner as earneſtly as polite, that ſhe would continue the Happineſs of her Acquaintance to his Couſin; which with a Smile of mingled Dignity and Sweetneſs ſhe aſſur'd him of.

CHAP. VIII.

MR. Glanville at his Return to the Dining-Room, finding Arabella retir'd, told his Father in a Rapture of Joy, that the charming Counteſs would certainly make a Convert of Lady Bella.

Methinks, ſaid the Baronet, ſhe has as ſtrange Whims in her Head as my Niece. Ad's-heart, what a deal of Stuff did ſhe talk about! A Parcel of Heroes as ſhe calls them, with con⯑founded hard Names—In my Mind ſhe is more likely to make Lady Bella worſe than better.

Mr. Glanville, a little vex'd at his Father's Miſ-apprehenſion, endeavour'd with as much Delicacy as he could, to ſet him right with Re⯑gard to the Counteſs; ſo that he brought him at laſt to confeſs ſhe manag'd the Thing very well.

The Counteſs, who had reſolv'd to take Arabella openly into her Protection, was think⯑ing on Means to engage her to appear at the [242] Aſſembly, whither ſhe propos'd to accompany her in a modern Dreſs. But her good Intenti⯑ons towards our lovely Heroine were ſuſpended by the Account ſhe receiv'd of her Mother's Indiſpoſition, which commanded her immedi⯑ate Attendance on her at her Seat in—

Her ſudden Departure gave Arabella an ex⯑treme Uneaſineſs, and proved a cruel Diſap⯑pointment to Mr. Glanville, who had founded all his Hopes of her Recovery on the Conver⯑ſation of that Lady.

Sir Charles having Affairs that requir'd his Preſence in London, propos'd to his Niece the leaving Bath in a few Days, to which ſhe con⯑ſented; and accordingly they ſet out for Lon⯑don in Arabella's Coach and Six, attended by ſeveral Servants on Horſeback, her Women having been ſent away before in the Stage.

Nothing very remarkable happen'd during this Journey, ſo we ſhall not trouble our Read⯑ers with ſeveral ſmall Miſtakes of Arabella's ſuch as her ſuppoſing a neat Country Girl who was riding behind a Man, to be ſome Lady or Princeſs in Diſguiſe, forc'd away by a Lover ſhe hated, and intreating Mr. Glanville to at⯑tempt her Reſcue; which occaſion'd ſome little Debate between her and Sir Charles, who could not be perſuaded to believe it was as ſhe ſaid, and forbid his Son to meddle in other Peoples Affairs. Several of theſe Sort of Mi⯑ſtakes, as we ſaid before, we omit, and will therefore if our Reader pleaſes, bring our He⯑roine without further Delay to London.

CHAP. I.

MISS Glanville whoſe Spirits were greatly exhilerated at their En⯑trance into London, that Seat of Magnificence and Pleaſure, con⯑gratulated her Couſin upon the Entertainment ſhe would receive from the new and ſurprizing Objects which every Day for a conſiderable Time would furniſh her with; and ran over the Catalogue of Diverſions with ſuch a Volubility of Tongue, as drew a gentle Re⯑primand from her Father, and made her keep a ſullen Silence till they were ſet down in [244] St. James's Square, the Place of their Reſidence in Town.

Sir Charles having order'd his late Lady's Apartment to be prepar'd for the Accommoda⯑tion of his Niece; as ſoon as the firſt Civilities were over, ſhe retir'd to her Chamber, where ſhe employ'd herſelf in giving her Women Di⯑rections for placing her Books, of which ſhe had brought a moderate Quantity to London, in her Cloſet.

Miſs Glanville as ſoon as ſhe had diſpatch'd away ſome hundred Cards to her Acquaintance, to give them Notice ſhe was in Town, attend⯑ed Arabella in her own Apartment; and as they ſat at the Tea ſhe begun to regulate the Diver⯑ſions of the Week, naming the Drawing-Room, Park, Concert, Ranelagh, Lady—Aſ⯑ſembly, the Dutcheſs of Rant, Vaux-Hall, and a long &c. of Viſits; at which Arabella, with an Accent that expreſs'd her Surprize, ask'd her, If ſhe ſuppos'd ſhe intended to ſtay in Town three or four Years—

Law, Couſin, ſaid Miſs Glanville, all this is but the Amuſement of a few Days.

Amuſement, do you ſay, replied Arabella, methinks it ſeems to be the ſole Employment of thoſe Days: And what you call the Amuſe⯑ment, muſt of Neceſſity be the Buſineſs of Life.

You are always ſo grave, Couſin, ſaid Miſs Glanville, one does not know what to ſay to you. However, I ſhan't preſs you to go to Publick Places againſt your Inclination, yet you'll condeſcend to receive a few Viſits, I ſuppoſe?

Yes, replied Arabella, and if among the La⯑dies whom I ſhall ſee, I find any like the amia⯑ble [245] Counteſs of —, I ſhall not ſcruple to enter into the moſt tender Amity with them.

The Counteſs of — is very well, to be ſure, ſaid Miſs Glanville, yet I don't know how it is, ſhe does not ſuit my Taſte—She is very par⯑ticular in a great many Things, and knows too much for a Lady, as I heard my Lord Fribble ſay one Day: Then ſhe is quite unfaſhionable: She hates Cards, keeps no Aſſembly, is ſeen but ſeldom at Publick Places; and in my Opinion, as well as in a great many others, is the dulleſt Company in the World. I'm ſure I met her at a Viſit a little before I went down to your Seat, and ſhe had not been a quarter of an Hour in the Room, before ſhe ſet a whole Circle of Ladies a yawning.

Arabella, tho' ſhe had a ſincere Contempt for her Couſin's Manner of thinking, yet always politely conceal'd it; and vex'd as ſhe was at her Sneers upon the Counteſs, ſhe contented herſelf with gently defending her, telling her at the ſame Time, that till ſhe met with a Lady who had more Merit than the Counteſs poſ⯑ſeſs'd, ſhe ſhould always poſſeſs the firſt Place in her Eſteem.

Arabella, who had from Youth adopted the Reſentments of her Father, refus'd to make her Appearance at Court, which Sir Charles gently intimated to her; yet being not wholly diveſted of the Curioſity natural to her Sex, ſhe condeſcended to go incog. to the Gallery on a B [...]ll Night, accompanied by Mr. Glanville and his Siſter, in order to behold the Splendor of the Britiſh Court.

[246] As her Romances had long familiariz'd her Thoughts to Objects of Grandeur and Magni⯑ficence, ſhe was not ſo much ſtruck as might have been expected, with thoſe that now pre⯑ſented themſelves to her View. Nor was ſhe a little diſappointed to find that among the Men ſhe ſaw none whoſe Appearance came up to her Ideas of the Air and Port of an Artaban, Oroon⯑dates, or Juba; or any of the Ladies, who did not in her Opinion, fall ſhort of the Perfections of Eliſa, Mandana, Statira, &c. 'Twas re⯑markable too, that ſhe never enquir'd how often the Princeſſes had been carried away by capti⯑vated Monarchs, or how many Victories the King's Sons had gain'd; but ſeem'd the whole Time ſhe was there to have ſuſpended all her Romantick Ideas of Glory, Beauty, Gallantry, and Love.

Mr. Glanville was highly pleas'd with her compos'd Behaviour, and a Day or two after intreated her to allow him the Honour of ſhew⯑ing her what was remarkable and worthy of her Obſervation in this great Metropolis. To this ſhe alſo conſented, and for the greater Privacy began their Travels in a hir'd Coach.

Part of ſeveral Days were taken up in this Employment; but Mr. Glanville had the Mor⯑tification to find ſhe was full of Alluſions to her Romances upon every Occaſion, ſuch as her asking the Perſon who ſhews the Armoury at the Tower, the Names of the Knights to whom each Suit belong'd, and wondering there were no Devices on the Shields or Plumes of Feathers in the Helmets: She obſerv'd that the Lyon Ly⯑ſimachus kill'd, was according to the Hiſtory of [247] that Prince, much larger than any of thoſe ſhe was ſhew'd in the Tower, and alſo much fiercer. Took Notice that St. Paul's was leſs magnifi⯑cent in the Inſide, than the Temple in which Cyrus, when he went to Mandana, heard her return Thanks for his ſuppos'd Death: En⯑quir'd if it was not cuſtomary for the King and his whole Court to ſail in Barges upon the Thames, as Auguſtus uſed to do upon the Tyber, whether they had not Muſick and Collations in the Park, and where they celebrated the Juſts and Tournaments.

The Seaſon for Vaux-Hall being not yet over, ſhe was deſirous of once ſeeing a Place, which by the Deſcription ſhe had heard of it, greatly reſembled the Gardens of Lucullus at Rome, in which the Emperor, with all the Princes and Princeſſes of his Court were ſo nobly entertain'd, and where ſo many gallant Converſations had paſs'd among thoſe admirable Perſons.

The Singularity of her Dreſs, for ſhe was cover'd with her Veil, drew a Number of Gazers after her, who preſt round her with ſo little Reſpect, that ſhe was greatly embarraſs'd, and had Thoughts of quitting the Place, de⯑lightful as ſhe own'd it, immediately, when her Attention was wholly engroſs'd by an Adven⯑ture in which ſhe ſoon intereſted herſelf very deeply.

An Officer of Rank in the Sea Service had brought his Miſtreſs diſguis'd in a Suit of Man's or rather Boy's Cloaths, and a Hat and Fea⯑ther, into the Gardens. The young Creature being a little intoxicated with the Wine ſhe had taken too freely, was thrown ſo much off her [248] Guard as to give Occaſion to ſome of the Com⯑pany to ſuſpect her Sex; and a gay Fellow, in order to give them ſome Diverſion at her Ex⯑pence, pretending to be affronted at ſomething ſhe ſaid, drew his Sword upon the diſguis'd Fair One, which ſo alarm'd her, that ſhe ſhriek'd out, She was a Woman, and ran for Protection to her Lover, who was ſo diſ [...]rder'd with Liquor, that he was not able to defend her.

Miſs Glanville ever curious and inquiſitive, demanded the Cauſe why the Company ran in Crouds to that particular Spot; and receiv'd for Anſwer, That a Gentleman had drawn his Sword upon a Lady diſguis'd in a Man's Habit.

Oh Heav'ns! cry'd Arabella, this muſt cer⯑tainly be a very notable Adventure. The Lady has doubtleſs ſome extraordinary Circumſtances in her Story, and haply upon Enquiry, her Mis⯑fortunes will be found to reſemble thoſe which oblig'd the beautiful Aſpaſia to put on the ſame Diſguiſe, who was by that Means murder'd by the cruel Zenodorus in a Fit of Jealouſy at the Amity his Wife expreſt for her. But can I not ſee this unfortunate Fair One, added ſhe, preſſing in ſpite of Mr. Glanville's Intreaties thro' the Croud—I may haply be able to afford her ſome Conſolation.

Mr. Glanville finding his Perſuaſions were not regarded, follow'd her with very little Dif⯑ficulty: For her Veil falling back in her Hurry, ſhe did not mind to replace it, and the Charms of her Face, join'd to the Majeſty of her Per⯑ſon, and Singularity of her Dreſs, attracting every Perſon's Attention and Reſpect, they made Way for her to paſs, not a little ſurpriz'd [249] at the extreme Earneſtneſs and Solemnity that appear'd in her Countenance upon an Event ſo diverting to every one elſe.

The diſguis'd Lady whom ſhe was endea⯑vouring to approach, had thrown herſelf upon a Bench in one of the Boxes, trembling ſtill with the Apprehenſion of the Sword, tho' her Antagoniſt was kneeling at her Feet, making Love to her in Mock-Heroicks for the Diver⯑ſion of the Company.

Her Hat and Peruke had fallen off in her Fright, and her Hair which had been turn'd up under it, hung now looſely about her Neck, and gave ſuch an Appearance of Woe to a Face, which notwithſtanding the Paleneſs that Terror had overſpread it with, was really extremely pretty, that Arabella was equally ſtruck with Compaſſion and Admiration of her.

Lovely Unknown, ſaid ſhe to her with an Air of extreme Tenderneſs, tho' I am a Stran⯑ger both to your Name and Hiſtory, yet your Aſpect perſuading me your Quality is not mean, and the Condition and Diſguiſe in which I be⯑hold you, ſhewing that you are Unfortunate, per⯑mit me to offer you all the Aſſiſtances in my Pow⯑er, ſeeing that I am mov'd thereto by my Com⯑paſſion for your Diſtreſs, and that Eſteem which the Sight of you muſt neceſſarily inſpire.

Mr. Glanville was ſtruck dumb with Confu⯑ſion at this ſtrange Speech, and at the Whiſpers and Scoffs it occaſion'd among the Spectators. He attempted to take hold of her Hand in order to lead her away, but ſhe diſengag'd herſelf from him with a Frown of Diſpleaſure; and taking no Notice of Miſs Glanville, who whiſper'd [250] with great Emotion, Lord, Couſin, how you expoſe yourſelf! preſt nearer to the Beautiful Diſguis'd, and again repeated her Offers of Service.

The Girl being perfectly recover'd from her Intoxication by the Fright ſhe had been in, gaz'd upon Arabella with a Look of extreme Sur⯑prize: Yet being mov'd to reſpect by the Dig⯑nity of her Appearance, and ſtrange as her Words ſeem'd to be by the obliging Purport of them, and the affecting Earneſtneſs with which they were deliver'd, ſhe roſe from her Seat and thank'd her, with an Accept full of Regard and Submiſſion.

Fair Maid, ſaid Arabella, taking her Hand, let us quit this Place, where your Diſcovery may probably ſubject you to more Dangers: If you will be pleas'd to put yourſelf into my Pro⯑tection, and acquaint me with the Hiſtory of your Miſfortunes; I have Intereſt enough with a valiant Perſon who ſhall undertake to free you from your Perſecutions, and re-eſtabliſh the Repoſe of your Life.

The kneeling Hero, who as well as every one elſe that were preſent, had gaz'd with Aſto⯑niſhment at Arabella during all this Paſſage, perceiving ſhe was about to rob him of the diſ⯑guis'd Fair, ſeiz'd hold of the Hand ſhe had at Liberty, and ſwore he would not part with her.

Mr. Glanville almoſt mad with Vexation, endeavour'd to get Arabella away.

Are you mad, Madam, ſaid he in a Whiſper, to make all this Rout about a Proſtitute? Do you ſee how every body ſtares at you? What will they think—For Heav'ns ſake let us be gone.

[251] What, Sir, replied Arabella in a Rage, Are you baſe enough to leave this admirable Crea⯑ture in the Power of that Man, who is que⯑ſtionleſs her Raviſher; and will you not draw your Sword in her Defence?

Hey day! cry'd the Sea-Officer, wak'd out of his ſtupid Doſe by the Clamour about him: What's the Matter here—What are you doing? Where's my Lucy? Zoons! Sir, ſaid he to the young Fellow who held her, What Buſineſs have you with my Lucy? And uttering a dreadful Oath, drew out his Sword, and ſtagger'd towards his gay Rival, who obſerving the Weakneſs of his Antagoniſt, flouriſh'd with his Sword to ſhew his Courage and frighten the Ladies, who all ran away ſcreaming. Arabella taking Miſs Glanville under the Arm, cried out to Mr. Glanville as ſhe left the Place, to take Care of the diſtreſs'd Lady, and while the two Comba⯑tants were diſputing for her, to carry her away in Safety.

But Mr. Glanville without regarding this In⯑junction, haſten'd after her; and to pacify her, told her the Lady was reſcu'd by her favourite Lover, and carry'd off in Triumph.

But are you ſure, ſaid Aabella, it was not ſome other of her Raviſhers who carry'd her away, and not the Perſon whom ſhe has haply favour'd with her Affection? May not the ſame Thing have happen'd to her, as did to the beau⯑tiful Candace, Queen of Ethiopia; who while two of her Raviſhers were fighting for her, a third whom ſhe took for her Deliverer, came and carry'd her away.

[252] But ſhe went away willingly, I aſſure you, Madam, ſaid Mr. Glanville: Pray don't be in any Concern about her—

If ſhe went away willingly with him, reply'd Arabella, 'tis probable it may not be another Raviſher: And yet if this Perſon that reſcu'd her happen'd to be in Armour, and the Vizor of his Helmet down, ſhe might be miſtaken as well as Queen Candace.

Well, well, he was not in Armour, Madam, ſaid Glanville almoſt beſide himſelf with Vexation at her Folly—

You ſeem to be diſturb'd, Sir, ſaid Arabella a little ſurpriz'd at his peeviſh Tone: Is there any Thing in this Adventure which concerns you? Nay, now I remember, you did not of⯑fer to defend the Beautiful Unknown. I am not willing to impute your In-action upon ſuch an Occaſion, to Want of Courage or Genero⯑ſity; perhaps you are acquainted with her Hi⯑ſtory, and from this Knowledge refus'd to en⯑gage in her Defence.

Mr. Glanville perceiving the Company gather from all Parts to the Walk they were in, told her he would acquaint her with all he knew concerning the diſguis'd Lady when they were in the Coach on their Return Home; and Ara⯑bella impatient for the promis'd Story, propos'd to leave the Gardens immediately, which was gladly comply'd with by Mr. Glanville, who heartily repented his having carry'd her thither.

CHAP. II.

AS ſoon as they were ſeated in the Coach ſhe did not fail to call upon him to perform his Promiſe: But Mr. Glanville, exceſſively out of Humour at her expoſing herſelf in the Gar⯑dens, reply'd, without conſidering whether he ſhuld not offend her, That he knew no more of the diſguis'd Lady than any body elſe in the Place.

How, Sir, reply'd Arabella, Did you not promiſe to relate her Adventures to me? And would you have me believe you knew no more of them than the reſt of the Cavaliers and La⯑dies in the Place?

Upon my Soul, I don't, Madam, ſaid Glan⯑ville; yet what I know of her is ſufficient to let me underſtand ſhe was not worth the Con⯑ſideration you ſeem'd to have for her.

She cannot ſure be more indiſcreet than the fair and unfortunate Hermione, reply'd Arabella; who like her put on Man's Apparel, through Deſpair at the ill Succeſs of her Paſſion for Alex⯑ander —And certain it is, that tho' the beautiful Hermione was guilty of one great Error which loſt her the Eſteem of Alexander, yet ſhe had a high and noble Soul; as was manifeſt by her Behaviour and Words when ſhe was run thro' by the Sword of Demetrius. Oh! Death, cry'd ſhe, as ſhe was falling, how ſweet do I find [254] thee, and how much and how earneſtly have I deſir'd thee!

Oh Lord! oh Lord! cry'd Mr. Glanville hardly ſenſible of what he ſaid, Was there ever any Thing ſo intolerable?

Do you pity the unhappy Hermione, Sir? ſaid Arabella interpreting his Exclamation her own Way? Indeed ſhe is well worthy of your Com⯑paſſion. And if the bare Recital of the Words ſhe utter'd at receiving her Death's Wound af⯑fects you ſo much, you may gueſs what would have been your Agonies, had you been Deme⯑trius that gave it to her.

Here Mr. Glanville groaning aloud thro' Im⯑patience at her Abſurdities—

This Subject affects you deeply, I perceive, ſaid Arabella. There is no Queſtion but you would have acted in the ſame Circumſtance, as Demetrius did: Yet let me tell you, the Ex⯑travagancy of his Rage and Deſpair for what he had innocently committed, was imputed to him as a great Imbecillity, as was alſo the vio⯑lent Paſſion he conceiv'd ſoon after for the Fair Deidamia. You know the Accident which brought that fair Princeſs into his Way.

Indeed, I do not, Madam, ſaid Glanville peeviſhly.

Well, then I'll tell you, ſaid Arabella, but pauſing a little:

The Recital I have engag'd myſelf to make, added ſhe, will neceſſarily take up ſome Hours Time, as upon Reflexion I have found: So if you will diſpenſe with my beginning it at pre⯑ſent, I will ſatisfy your Curioſity To-morrow, when I may be able to purſue it without Inter⯑ruption.

[255] To this Mr. Glanville made no other An⯑ſwer than a Bow with his Head; and the Coach a few Moments after arriving at their own Houſe, he led her to her Apartment, firmly reſolv'd never to attend her to any more Publick Places while ſhe continued in the ſame ridicu⯑lous Folly.

Sir Charles, who had ſeveral Times been in doubt whether Arabella was not really diſorder'd in her Senſes; upon Miſs Glanville's Account of her Behaviour at the Gardens, concluded ſhe was abſolutely mad, and held a ſhort Debate with himſelf, Whether he ought not to bring a Commiſſion of Lunacy againſt her, rather than marry her to his Son, whom he was per⯑ſuaded could never be happy with a Wife ſo un⯑accountably abſurd. Tho' he only hinted at this to Mr. Glanville, in a Converſation he had with him while his Diſſatisfaction was at its Height, concerning Arabella, yet the bare Sup⯑poſition that his Father ever thought of ſuch a Thing, threw the young Gentleman into ſuch Agonies, that Sir Charles to compoſe him, pro⯑teſted he would do nothing in relation to his Niece that he would not approve of. Yet he expoſtulated with him on the Abſurdity of her Behaviour, and the Ridicule to which ſhe ex⯑pos'd herſelf wherever ſhe went; appealing to him, whether in a Wife he could think thoſe Follies ſupportable, which in a Miſtreſs occaſion'd him ſo much Confuſion.

Mr. Glanville, as much in Love as he was, felt all the Force of this Inference, and acknow⯑ledg'd to his Father, That he could not think of marrying Arabella, till the Whims her Ro⯑mances [256] had put into her Head, were craz'd by a better Knowledge of Life and Manners. But he added with a Sigh, That he knew not how this Reformation would be effected; for ſhe had ſuch a ſtrange Facility in reconciling every Incident to her own fantaſtick Ideas, that every new Object added Strength to the fatal Deception ſhe laboured under.

CHAP. III.

OUR lovely Heroine had not been above a Fortnight in London, before the groſs Air of that ſmoaky Town affected her Health ſo much, that Sir Charles propos'd to her to go for a few Weeks to Richmond, where he hir'd a Houſe elegantly furniſh'd for her Reception.

Miſs Glanville had been too long out of that darling City, to pay her the Compliment of at⯑tending her conſtantly at Richmond; yet ſhe promis'd to be as often as poſſible with her: And Sir Charles, having Affaris that could not diſ⯑penſe with his Abſence from town, plac'd his Steward in her Houſe, being a Perſon whoſe Prudence and Fidelity he could rely upon; and he, with her Women, and two or three other menial Servants, made up her Equipage.

As it was not conſiſtent with Decorum for Mr. Glanville to reſide in her Houſe, he con⯑tented himſelf with riding to Richmond generally [257] every Day: And as long as Arabella was pleas'd with that Retirement, he reſolv'd not to preſs her Return to Town till the Counteſs of—arriv'd, in whoſe Converſation he grounded all his Hopes of her Cure.

At that Seaſon of the Year Richmond not being quite deſerted by Company, Arabella was viſited by ſeveral Ladies of Faſhion; who charm'd with her Affability, Politeneſs, and good Senſe, were ſtrangely perplex'd how to ac⯑count for ſome Peculiarities in her Dreſs and Manner of thinking.

Some of the younger Sort from whom Arabella's extraordinary Beauty took away all Pretenſions to Equality on that Score, made themſelves ex⯑tremely merry with her Oddneſſes, as they call'd them, and gave broad Intimations that her Head was not right.

As for Arabella, whoſe Taſte was as delicate, Sentiments as refin'd, and Judgment as clear as any Perſon's could be who believ'd the Authen⯑ticity of Scudery's Romances, ſhe was ſtrange⯑ly diſappointed to find no Lady with whom ſhe could converſe with any tolerable Pleaſure: And that inſtead of Clelia's, Statira's Mandana's, &c. ſhe found only Miſs Glanville among all ſhe knew.

The Compariſon ſhe drew between ſuch as theſe and the charming Counteſs of—whom ſhe had juſt begun to be acquainted with at Bath, increas'd her Regret for the Interruption that was given to ſo agreeable a Friendſhip: And it was with infinite Pleaſure Mr. Glanville heard her repeatedly wiſh for the Arrival of that admi⯑rable Lady (as ſhe always call'd her) in Town.

[258] Not being able to reliſh that inſipid Conver⯑ſation of the young Ladies that viſited her at Richmond, her chief Amuſement was to walk in the Park there; which becauſe of its Rural Priva⯑cy, was extremely agreeable to her Inclinations.

Here ſhe indulg'd Contemplation, leaning on the Arm of her faithful Lucy, while her other Women walk'd at ſome Diſtance behind her, and two Men Servants kept her always in Sight.

One Evening when ſhe was returning from her uſual Walk, ſhe heard the Sound of a Wo⯑man's Voice, which ſeem'd to proceed from a Tuft of Trees that hid her from her View. And ſtopping a Moment, diſtinguiſh'd ſome plaintive Accents, which increaſing her Curio⯑ſity, ſhe advanc'd towards the Place, telling Lucy, ſhe was reſolv'd if poſſible to diſcover who the diſtreſs'd Lady was, and what was the Subject of her Affliction.

As ſhe drew nearer with ſoftly treading Steps, ſhe could diſtinguiſh through the Branches of the Trees, now deſpoil'd of great part of their Leaves, two Women ſeated on the Ground, their Backs towards her, and one of them with her Head gently reclin'd on the other's Shoulder, ſeem'd by her mournful Action to be weeping; for ſhe often put her Handkerchief to her Eyes, breathing every Time a Sigh, which, as Arabella phras'd it, ſeem'd to proceed from the deepeſt Receſſes of her Heart.

This Adventure, more worthy indeed to be ſtyl'd an Adventure than all our Fair Heroine had ever yet met with, and ſo conformable to what ſhe had read in Romances, fill'd her Heart with eager Expectation. She made a Sign to [259] Lucy to make no Noiſe, and creeping ſtill cloſer towards the Place where this afflicted Perſon ſat, ſhe heard her diſtinctly utter theſe Words, which however were often interrupted with her Sighs.

Ah! Ariamenes, whom I to my Misfortune have too much loved, and whom to my Mis⯑fortune I fear I ſhall never ſufficiently hate, ſince that Heav'n and thy cruel Ingratitude hath ordain'd that thou ſhalt never be mine, and that ſo many ſweet and dear Hopes are for ever taken from me, return me at leaſt, ungrateful Man, return me thoſe Teſtimonies of my in⯑nocent Affection, which were ſometimes ſo dear and precious to thee. Return me thoſe Favours, which all innocent as they were, are become Criminal by thy Crime. Return me, Cruel Man, return me thoſe Reliques of my Heart which thou detaineſt in Deſpight of me, and which, notwithſtanding thy Infidelity, I cannot recover.

Here her Tears interrupting her Speech, Arabella being impatient to know the Hiſtory of this afflicted Perſon, came ſoftly round to the other Side, and ſhewing herſelf, occaſion'd ſome Diſturbance to the ſad Unknown; who riſing from her Seat, with her Face averted, as if aſham'd of having ſo far diſclos'd her Sor⯑rows in a Stranger's Hearing, endeavour'd to paſs by her un-notic'd.

Arabella perceiving her Deſign, ſtop'd her with a very graceful Action, and with a Voice all compos'd of Sweetneſs, earneſtly conjur'd her to relate her Hiſtory.

[260] Think not, Lovely Unknown, ſaid ſhe (for ſhe was really very pretty) that my Endeavours to detain you proceed from an indiſcreet Curio⯑ſity. 'Tis true, ſome Complaints which have fallen from your fair Mouth, have rais'd in me a Deſire to be acquainted with your Adventures; but this Deſire has its Foundation in that Com⯑paſſion your Complaints have fill'd me with: And if I wiſh to know your Misfortunes, 'tis only with a View of affording you ſome Conſolation.

Pardon me, Madam, ſaid the Fair Afflicted, gazing on Arabella with many Signs of Ad⯑miration, if my Confuſion at being over-heard in a Place I had choſen to bewail my Misfor⯑tunes, made me be guilty of ſome Appearance of Rudeneſs, not ſeeing the admirable Perſon I wanted to avoid. But purſued ſhe, heſitating a little, thoſe Characters of Beauty I behold in your Face, and the Gracefulneſs of your De⯑portment convincing me you can be of no or⯑dinary Rank, I will the leſs ſcruple to acquaint you with my Adventures, and the Cauſe of thoſe Complaints you have heard proceed from my Mouth.

Arabella aſſuring her, that whatever her Miſ⯑fortunes were, ſhe might depend upon all the Aſſiſtance in her Power, ſeated herſelf near her at the Foot of the Tree where ſhe had been fit⯑ting, and giving Lucy Orders to join the reſt of her Women, and ſtay at a Diſtance till ſhe made a Sign to them to advance, ſhe pre⯑par'd to liſten to the Adventures of the Fair Unknown, who after ſome little Pauſe, began to relate them in this Manner.

CHAP. IV.

MY Name, Madam, is Cynccia, my Birth Illuſtrious enough, ſeeing that I am the Daughter of a Sovereign Prince, who poſſeſſes a large and ſpacious Territory in what is now called Antient Gaul.

What, Madam, interrupted Arabella, Are you a Princeſs then?

Queſtionleſs I am, Madam, replied the La⯑dy; and a Princeſs happy and proſperous, till the Felicity of my Life was interrupted by the perfidious Ariamenes.

Pardon me, Madam, interrupted Arabella again, that my Ignorance of your Quality made me be deficient in thoſe Reſpects which are due to your high Birth, and which notwith⯑ſtanding thoſe Characters of Greatneſs I might read in the Lineaments of your Viſage, I yet neglected to p [...]y—

Alas! Madam, ſaid the Stranger, that little Beauty which the Heavens beſtow'd on me only to make me wretched, as by the Event it has proved, has long ſince taken its Flight, and together with my Happineſs, I have loſt that which made me Unhappy. And certain it is, Grief has made ſuch Ravages among what might once have been thought tolerable in my Face, that I ſhould not be ſurpriz'd if my being no longer Fair, ſhould make you with Difficulty believe I ever was ſo.

[263] Arabella after a proper Compliment in An⯑ſwer to this Speech, intreated the Princeſs to go on with her Hiſtory, who heſitating a little, comply'd with her Requeſt.

Be pleas'd to know then, Madam, ſaid ſhe, that being bred up with all imaginable Tender⯑neſs in my Father's Court, I had no ſooner arriv'd to my Sixteenth Year than I ſaw myſelf ſurrounded with Lovers; who nevertheleſs, ſuch was the Severity with which I behav'd myſelf, conceal'd their Paſſions under a reſpect⯑ful Silence, well knowing Baniſhment from my Preſence was the leaſt Puniſhment they had to expect, if they preſum'd to declare their Senti⯑ments to me.

I liv'd in this Faſhion, Madam, for Two Years longer, rejoicing in the Inſenſibility of my own Heart, and triumphing in the Suffer⯑ings of others, when my Tranquillity was all at once interrupted by an Accident which I am going to relate to you.

The Princeſs ſtopt here to give Vent to ſome Sighs which a cruel Remembrance forc'd from her; and continuing in a deep Muſe for five or ſix Minutes, reſum'd her Story in this Manner.

It being my Cuſtom to walk in a Foreſt adjoining to one of my Father's Sum mer Reſidences, attended only by my Women, one Day when I was taking this A muſe⯑ment, I perceiv'd at ſome Diſtance a Man ly⯑ing on the Ground; and impell'd by a ſudden Curioſity, I advanc'd towards this Perſon, whom upon a nearer View I perceiv'd to have been wounded very much, and fainted away through [262] Loſs of Blood. His Habit being very rich, I concluded by that he was of no mean Quality: But when I had look'd upon his Countenance, pale and languiſhing as it was, methought there appear'd ſo many Marks of Greatneſs, accom⯑pany'd with a Sweetneſs ſo happily blended, that my Attention was engag'd in an extraordinary Manner, and intereſted me ſo powerfully in his Safety, that I commanded ſome of my Women to run immediately for proper Aſſiſtance, and convey him to the Caſtle, while I directed others to throw ſome Water in his Face, and to apply ſome Linen to his Wounds, to ſtop the Bleeding.

Theſe charitable Cares reſtor'd the wounded Stranger to his Senſes; he open'd his Eyes, and turning them ſlowly to the Objects around him, fix'd at laſt their languiſhing Looks on me: When mov'd, as it ſhould ſeem, to ſome Reſpect by what he ſaw in my Countenance, he roſe with ſome Difficulty from the Ground, and bowing almoſt down to it again, by that Action ſeem'd to pay me his Acknowledgments for what he ſuppos'd I had done for his Preſervation.

His extreme Weakneſs having oblig'd him to creep towards a Tree, againſt the Back of which he ſupported himſelf, I went nearer to him, and having told him the Condition in which I found him, and the Orders I had diſpatch'd for Aſſiſt⯑ance, requeſted him to acquaint me with his Name and Quality, and the Adventure which had brought him into that Condition.

My Name, Madam, anſwer'd he, is Aria⯑menes, my Birth is Noble enough; I have ſpent ſome Years in my Travels, and was returning [264] to my native Country, when paſſing thro' this Foreſt I was ſeiz'd with an Inclination to ſleep. I had ty'd my Horſe to a Tree, and retiring ſome few Paces off, ſtretch'd myſelf at the Foot of a large Oak whoſe Branches promis'd me an agreeable Shade. I had not yet clos'd my Eyes, when the Slumber I invited was diſſipated by the Sound of ſome Voices near me.

A Curioſity, not natural to me, made me liſten to the Diſcourſe of theſe Perſons, whom by the Tone of their Voices, tho' I could not ſee them, I knew to be Men.

In ſhort, Madam, I was a Witneſs to a moſt horrible Scheme which they concerted together; my Weakneſs will not permit me to enter into an exact Detail of all I heard: The Reſult of their Conference was, To ſeize the Princeſs of this Country and carry her off.

Here, purſued Cynecia, I interrupted the Stranger with a loud Cry, which giving him to underſtand who I was, he apologiz'd in the moſt graceful Manner imaginable for the little Reſpect he had hitherto paid me.

I then intreated him to tell me, If he had any Opportunity of hearing the Name of my deſign'd Raviſher; to which he reply'd, that he under⯑ſtood it to be Taxander.

This Man, Madam, was one of my Father's Favourites, and had been long ſecretly in Love with me.

Ariamenes then inform'd me, that being en⯑flam'd with Rage againſt theſe impious Villains, he roſe from the Ground, re-mounted his Horſe, and defy'd the two Traytors aloud, threatning them with Death, unleſs they abandon'd their impious Deſign.

[265] Taxander made no Anſwer, but ruſh'd furi⯑ouſly upon him, and had the Biſeneſs to ſuffer his wicked Aſſociate to aſſiſt him: But the va⯑liant Ariamenes, tho' he ſpoke modeſtly of his Victory, yet gave me to underſtand that he had made both the Villams abandon their wicked En⯑terprize, with their Lives; and that diſmount⯑ing in order to ſee if they were quite dead, he found himſelf ſo faint with the Wounds he had received from them both, that he had not Strength to re-mount his Horſe; but crawling on, in Hopes of meeting with ſome Aſſiſtance, ſainted away at laſt through Wearineſs and Loſs of Blood.

While he was giving me this Account, the Chariot I had ſent for arrived, and having made him ſuch Acknowledgments as the Obligation I had received from him demanded, I caus'd him to get into the Chariot, and ſending one with him to acquaint the Prince my Father with all that had happen'd, and the Merit o [...] the valiant Stranger, I return'd the ſame Way I came with my Women, my Thoughts being wholly engroſs'd by this Unknown.

The Service he had done me fill'd me with a Gratitude and Eſteem for him, which prepar'd my Heart for thoſe tender Sentiments I after⯑wards entertain'd to the Ruin of my Repoſe.

I will not tire your Patience, Madam, with a minute Detail of all the ſucceeding Paſſages of my Story; it ſhall ſuffice to tell you, That Ariamenes was received with extraordinary Marks of Eſteem by my Father; that his Cure was ſoon compleated; and that having vow' [...] himſelf to my Service, and declar'd an unal⯑terable [266] Paſſion for me, I permitted him to love me, and gave him that Share in my Heart, which I fear not all his Infidelities will ever de⯑prive him of.

His Attachment to me was ſoon ſuſpected by Taxander's Relations, who having ſecretly vow'd his Ruin, endeavour'd to diſcover if I had admitted his Addreſſes, and having made themſelves Maſters of our Secrets, by means of the Treachery of one of my Women, procur'd Information to be given to my Father of our mutual Paſſion.

Alas! what Miſchiefs did not this fatal Diſ⯑covery produce: My Father, enrag'd to the laſt Degree at this Intelligence, confin'd me to my Apartments, and order'd Ariamenes to leave his Dominions within three Days.

Spare me, Madam, the Repetition of what paſs'd at our laſt ſad Interview, which by large Bribes to my Guards, he obtain'd.

His Tears, his Agonies, his Vows of ever⯑laſting Fidelity, ſo ſooth'd my Melancholy at parting with him, and perſuaded me of his Conſtancy, that I waited for ſeveral Months with perfect Tranquillity for the Performance of the Promiſe he made me, to do my Father ſuch conſiderable Services in the War he was engag'd in with one of his Neighbours, as ſhould oblige him to give me to him for his Reward.

But, alas! two Years roll'd on without bringing back the unfaithful Ariamenes. My Father died, and my Brother who ſucceeded him, being about to force me to marry a Prince whom I deteſted, I ſecretly quitted the Court, and attended only by this faithful Confidant whom [267] you behold with me, and ſome few of my truſty Domeſticks, I came hither in Search of Aria⯑menes, he having told me this Country was the Place of his Birth.

Polenor, the moſt prudent and faithful of my Servants, undertook to find out the ungreateful Ariamenes, whom yet I was willing to find Ex⯑cuſes for, but all his Enquiries were to no Ef⯑fect; the Name of Ariamenes was not known in this Part of the World.

Tir'd out with unſucceſsful Enquiries, I re⯑ſolv'd to ſeek out ſome obſcure Place, where I might in ſecret lament my Misfortunes, and expect the End of them in Death. My At⯑tendants found me out ſuch a Retreat as I wanted, in a neighbouring Village, which they call Twickenham, I think, from whence I often make Excurſions to this Park, attended only as you ſee; and here indulge myſelf in Com⯑plaints upon the Cruelty of my Deſtiny.

The ſorrowful Cynecia here ended her Story, to which in the Courſe of her Relation ſhe had given a great many Interruptions through the Violence of her Grief: And Arabella, after having ſaid every thing ſhe could think on to al⯑leviate her Affliction, earneſtly intreated her to accept of an Aſylum at her Houſe; where ſhe ſhould be treated with all the Reſpect due to her illuſtrious Birth.

The afflicted Lady, tho' ſhe reſpectfully de⯑clin'd this Offer, yet expreſs'd a great Deſire of commencing a ſtrict Amity with our fair He⯑roine, who on her Part, made her the moſt tender Proteſtations of Friendſhip.

[268] The Evening being almoſt clos'd, they parted with great Reluctancy on both Sides; mutually promiſing to meet in the ſame Place the next Day.

Cynecia, having enjoin'd her new Friend ab⯑ſolute Secrecy, Arabella was under a Neceſſity of keeping this Adventure to herſelf. And tho' ſhe long'd to tell Mr. Glanville, who came to viſit her the next Day, that the Counteſs was extremely miſtaken, when ſhe maintain'd there were no more wandering Princeſſes in the World, yet the Engagement ſhe had ſubmitted to, kept her ſilent.

CHAP. V.

ARABELLA, who impatiently long'd for the Hour of meeting the fair Princeſs, with whom ſhe was extremely delighted, con⯑ſulted her Watch ſo often, and diſcover'd ſo much Reſtleſsneſs and Anxiety, that Mr. Glan⯑ville began to be ſurpriz'd; and the more, as ſhe peremptorily commanded him not to attend her in her Evening Walk. This Prohibition, which, tho' he durſt not diſpute, he ſecretly re⯑ſolv'd to diſobey; and as ſoon as ſhe ſet out for the Park with her uſual Attendants, he ſlipp'd out by a Back-door, and keeping her in his Sight, himſelf unſeen, ſhe ventur'd to watch her Motions.

[269] As he had expected to unravel ſome great Myſtery, he was agreeably diſappointed to find ſhe continu'd her Walk in the Park with great Compoſure; and tho' ſhe was ſoon join'd by the imaginary Princeſs, yet conceiving her to be ſome young Lady, with whom ſhe had commenc'd an Acquaintance at Richmond, his Heart was at Reſt; and for fear of diſpleaſing her, he took a con⯑trary Path from that ſhe was in, that he might not meet her, yet reſolv'd to ſtay till he thought ſhe would be inclin'd to return, and then ſhew himſelf, and conduct her Home. A Solicitude for which he did not imagine ſhe need be of⯑fended.

The two Ladies being met, after reciprocal Compliments, the Princeſs intreated Arabella to relate her Adventures; who not being wil⯑ling to violate the Laws of Romance, which require an unbounded Confidence upon theſe Occaſions, began very ſuccinctly to recount the Hiſtory of her Life; which, as ſhe manag'd it, contain'd Events almoſt as Romantick and Incredible as any in her Romances; winding them up with a Confeſſion that ſhe did not hate Mr. Glanville, whom ſhe acknowledg'd to be one of the moſt faithful and zealous of Lovers.

Cynecia with a Sigh, congratulated her upon the Fidelity of a Lover, who by her Deſcrip⯑tion, was worthy the Place he poſſeſs'd in her Eſteem: And expreſſing a Wiſh, that ſhe could ſee, unobſerv'd by him, this gallant and gene⯑rous Perſon, Arabella, who that Moment eſpy'd him at a Diſtance, yet advancing towards them, told her, with a Bluſh that overſpread all her Face, That her Curioſity might be ſatisfy'd in [270] the Manner ſhe wiſh'd, for, yonder, added ſhe is the Perſon we have been talking of.

Cynecia, at theſe Words, looking towards the Place where her fair Friend had directed; no ſooner caſt her Eyes upon Mr. Glanville, than giving a loud Cry, ſhe ſunk into the Arms of Arabella, who, aſtoniſh'd and perplex'd as ſhe was, eagerly held them out to ſupport her.

Finding her in a Swoon, ſhe diſpatch'd. Lucy, who was near her, to look for ſome Water to throw in her Face; but that Lady breathing a deep Sigh, open'd her languiſhing Eyes, and fix⯑ing a melancholy Look upon Arabella,

Ah! Madam, ſaid ſhe, wonder not at my Affliction and Surprize, ſince in the Perſon of your Lover I behold the ungrateful Ariamenes.

Oh Heav'ns! my fair Princeſs, replied Ara⯑bella, What is it you ſay? Is it poſſible Glan⯑ville can be Ariamenes?

He, cried the afflicted Princeſs with a diſ⯑order'd Accent, He whom I now behold! and whom you call Glanville, was once Ariamenes, the perjur'd, the ungrateful Ariamenes. Adieu, Madam, I cannot bear this Sight; I will hide myſelf from the World for ever; nor need you fear a Rival or an Enemy in the unfortunate Cynecia, who if poſſible, will ceaſe to love the unfaithful Ariamenes, and will never hate the beautiful Arabella.

Saying this, without giving her Time to an⯑ſwer, ſhe took hold of her Confidant by the Arm, and went away with ſo much Swiftneſs, that ſhe was out of ſight before Arabella was enough recover'd from her Aſtoniſhment to be able to intreat her Stay.

[271] Our charming Heroine, ignorant till now of the true State of her Heart, was ſurpriz'd to find it aſſaulted at once by all the Paſſions which attend diſappointed Love. Grief, Rage, Jea⯑louſy, and Deſpair made ſo cruel a War in her gentle Boſom, that unable either to expreſs or to conceal the ſtrong Emotions with which ſhe was agitated, ſhe gave Way to a violent Burſt of Tears, leaning her Head upon Lucy's Shoulder, who wept as heartily as her Lady, tho' igno⯑rant of the Cauſe of her Affliction.

Mr. Glanville, who was now near enough to take Notice of her Poſture, came running with eager Heart to ſee what was the matter; when Arabella, rous'd from her Extacy of Grief by the Sound of his Steps, lifted up her Head, and ſeeing him approach,

Lucy, cried ſhe, trembling with the Violence of her Reſentment, Tell that Traitor to keep out of my Sight. Tell him, I forbid him ever to appear before me again. And, tell him, ad⯑ded ſhe, with a Sigh that ſhook her whole tender Frame, All that Blood in his Body is too little to waſh away his Guilt, or to pacify my Indignation.

Then haſtily turning away, ſhe ran towards her other Attendants, who were at ſome Di⯑ſtance; and joining her Women, proceeded directly Home.

Mr. Glanville, amaz'd at this Action, was making after her as faſt as he could, when Lucy croſſing in his Way, cry'd out to him to ſtop.

My Lady, ſaid ſhe, bid me tell you, Trai⯑tor—

[272] Hey day! interrupted Glanville, What the Devil does the Girl mean?

Pray Sir, ſaid ſhe, let me deliver my Meſ⯑ſage: I ſhall forget if you ſpeak to me till I have ſaid it all—Stay, let me ſee, What comes next?

No more Traitor, I hope, ſaid Glanville.

Nor, Sir, ſaid Lucy; but there was ſome⯑thing about waſhing in Blood, and you muſt keep out of her Sight, and not appear before the Nation—Oh dear! I have forgot it half: My Lady was in ſuch a piteous Taking, I for⯑got it, I believe, as ſoon as ſhe ſaid it. What ſhall I do?—

No Matter, ſaid Glanville, I'll overtake her, and ask—

No, no, Sir, ſaid Lucy, Pray don't do that, Sir, my Lady will be very angry: I'll venture to ask her to tell me over again, and come back and let you know it.

But tell me, reply'd Glanville, Was any thing the Matter with your Lady? She was in a pi⯑teous Taking, you ſay.

Oh dear! yes, Sir, ſaid Lucy; but I was not bid to ſay any thing about that. To be ſure, my Lady did cry ſadly, and ſigh'd as if her Heart would break; but I don't know what was the Matter with her.

Well, ſaid Glanville, exceſſively ſhock'd at this Intelligence, Go to your Lady; I am go⯑ing Home—You may bring me her Meſſage to my own Apartment.

Lucy did as ſhe was deſir'd; and Mr. Glan⯑ville, impatient as he was to unravel the My⯑ſtery, yet dreading leſt his Preſence ſhould make [273] Arabella be guilty of ſome Extravagance before the Servants who were with her, he follow'd ſlowly after her, reſolving if poſſible, to pro⯑cure a private Interview with the lovely Viſion⯑ary, for whoſe Sorrow, tho' he ſuſpected it was owing to ſome ridiculous Cauſe, he could not help being affected.

CHAP. VI.

ARABELLA, who had walk'd as faſt as her Legs would carry her, got Home before Lucy could overtake her, and retiring to her Chamber, gave Way to a freſh Burſt of Grief, and bewail'd the Infidelity of Glanville in Terms befitting a Clelia or Mandana.

As ſoon as ſhe ſaw Lucy enter, ſhe ſtarted from her Chair with great Emotion.

Thou comeſt, ſaid ſhe, I know, to inter⯑cede for that ungrateful Man, whoſe Infidelity I am weak enough to lament: But open not thy Mouth, I charge thee, in his Defence.

No, indeed, Madam, ſaid Lucy.

Nor bring me any Account of his Tears, his Deſparation, or his Deſpair, ſaid Arabella, ſince queſtionleſs he will feign them all to deceive me.

Here Glanville, who had watch'd Lucy's com⯑ing, and had follow'd her into Arabella's Apart⯑ment, appear'd at the Door.

[274] Oh Heav'ns! cry'd Arabella lifting up her fine Eyes, Can it be that this diſloyal Man, un⯑aw'd by the Diſcovery of his Guilt, again pre⯑ſumes to approach me!—

Deareſt Couſin, ſaid Glanville, What is the Meaning of all this?—How have I diſoblig'd you?—What is my Offence? I beſeech you, tell me.

^* Ask the inconſtant Ariamenes, reply'd Arabella, the Offence of the ungrateful Glan⯑ville. The Betrayer of Cynecia can beſt anſwer that Queſtion to the Deceiver of Arabella. And the Guilt of the one can only be compar'd to the Crimes of the other.

Good God! interrupted Mr. Glanville fret⯑ting exceſſively, What am I to underſtand by all this? On my Soul, Madam, I don't know the Meaning of one Word you ſay.

Oh Diſſembler! ſaid Arabella, Is it thus that thou would'ſt impoſe upon my Credulity? Does not the Name of Ariamenes make thee tremble then? And can'ſt thou hear that of Cynecia without Confuſion?

Dear Lady Bella, ſaid Glanville ſmiling, What are theſe Names to me?

Falſe Man, interrupted Arabella, Doſt thou preſume to ſport with thy Crimes then? Are not the Treacheries of Ariamenes the Crimes of Glanville? Could Ariamenes be falſe to the Prin⯑ceſs [275] of Gaul, and can Glanville be innocent to⯑wards Arabella?

Mr. Glanville, who had never heard her in his Opinion, talk ſo ridiculouſly before, was ſo amaz'd at the incomprehenſible Stuff ſhe utter'd with ſo much Emotion, that he began to fear her Intellects were really touch'd. This Thought gave him a Concern that ſpread itſelf in a Moment over his Countenance. He gaz'd on her with a fix'd Attention, dreading, yet wiſhing ſhe would ſpeak again; equally divided between his Hopes, that her next Speech would remove his Suſpicion, and his Fears, that it might more confirm them.

Arabella taking Notice of his penſive Poſture, turn'd away her Head, leſt by beholding him, ſhe ſhould relent, and treat him with leſs Seve⯑rity than ſhe had intended; making at the ſame Time a Sign to him to be gone.

Indeed, Lady Bella, ſaid Glanville who un⯑derſtood her perfectly well, I cannot leave you in this Temper. I muſt know how I have been ſo unfortunate as to offend you.

Arabella, no longer able to contain herſelf, burſt into Tears at this Queſtion: With one Hand ſhe made repeated Signs to him to be gone, with the other ſhe held her Handkerchief to her Eyes, vex'd and aſham'd of her Weak⯑neſs.

But Mr. Glanville, exceſſively ſhock'd at this Sight, inſtead of leaving her, threw himſelf on his Knees before her, and taking her Hand, which he tenderly preſt to his Lips,

Good God! my deareſt Couſin, ſaid he, How you diſtract me by this Behaviour! Sure [276] ſomething extraordinary muſt be the Matter. What can it be that thus afflicts you?—Am I the Cauſe of theſe Tears?—Can I have offended you ſo much?—Speak, dear Madam—Let me know my Crime. Yet may I periſh if I am conſcious of any towards you—

Diſloyal Man, ſaid Arabella diſ-engaging her Hand from his, Does then the Crime of Aria⯑menes ſeem ſo light in thy Apprehenſion, that thou can'ſt hope to be thought innocent by Arabella? No, no, ungrateful Man, the un⯑fortunate Cynecia ſhall have no Cauſe to ſay, that I will triumph in her Spoils. I myſelf will be the Miniſter of her Revenge; and Glanville ſhall ſuffer for the Crime of Ariamenes.

Who the Devil is this Ariamenes, cry'd Glanville riſing in a Paſſion? And why am I to ſuffer for his Crime, pray? For Heav'ns Sake, dear Couſin, don't let your Imagination wan⯑der thus. Upon my Soul, I don't believe there is any ſuch Perſon as Ariamenes in the World,

Vile Equivocator, ſaid Arabella; Ariamenes, tho' dead to Cynecia, is alive to the deluded Arabella. The Crimes of Ariamenes are the Guilt of Glanville: And if the one has made himſelf unworthy of the Princeſs of Gaul, by his Perfidy and Ingratitude, the other by his Baſeneſs and Deceit, merits nothing but Con⯑tempt and Deteſtation from Arabella.

Frenzy, by my Soul, cry'd Glanville mutter⯑ingly between his Teeth: This is downright Frenzy. What ſhall I do?—

Hence, from my Preſence, reſum'd Arabella, falſe and ungrateful Man; perſecute me no more with the hateful Offers of thy Love. From [277] this Moment I baniſh thee from my Thoughts for ever; and neither as Glanville or as Aria⯑menes, will I ever behold thee more.

Stay, dear Couſin, ſaid Glanville holding her (for ſhe was endeavouring to ruſh by him, un⯑willing he ſhould ſee the Tears that had over⯑ſpread her Face as ſhe pronounc'd thoſe Words) hear me, I beg you, but one Word. Who is it you mean by Ariamenes?—Is it me?—Tell me, Madam, I beſeech you—This is ſome hor⯑rid Miſtake—You have been impos'd upon by ſome villainous Artifice—Speak, dear Lady Bella—Is it me you mean by Ariamenes? For ſo your laſt Words ſeem'd to hint—

Arabella, without regarding what he ſaid, ſtruggled violently to force her Hand from his: and finding him ſtill earneſt to detain her, told him with an enrag'd Voice, That ſhe would call for Help, if he did not unhand her directly.

Poor Glanville, at this Menace, ſubmiſſively dropt her Hand; and the Moment ſhe was free, ſhe flew out of the Room, and locking herſelf up in her Cloſet, ſent her Commands to him by one of her Women, whom ſhe call'd to her, to leave her Apartment immediately.

CHAP. VII.

MR. Glanville, who ſtood fix'd like a Statue in the Place where Arabella had left him, was rous'd by this Meſſage, which tho' palliated [278] a little by the Girl that deliver'd it, who was not quite ſo punctual as Lucy, nevertheleſs fill'd him with extreme Confuſion. He obey'd how⯑ever immediately, and retiring to his own Apart⯑ment, endeavour'd to recall to his Memory all Lady Bella had ſaid.

The Ambiguity of her Style, which had led him into a Suſpicion he had never entertain'd before, her laſt Words had partly explain'd, if as he underſtood ſhe did, ſhe meant him by Ariamenes. Taking this for granted, he eaſily conceiv'd ſome Plot grounded on her Roman⯑tick Notions had been laid, to prepoſſeſs her againſt him.

Sir George's Behaviour to her ruſh'd that Mo⯑ment into his Thoughts: He inſtantly recollected all his Fooleries, his Hiſtory, his Letter, his Converſation, all apparently copied from thoſe Books ſhe was ſo fond of, and probably done with a View to ſome other Deſign upon her.

Theſe Reflections, join'd to his new awak'd Suſpicions, that he was in Love with her, con⯑vinc'd him he was the Author of their preſent Miſ-underſtanding; and that he had impos'd ſome new Fallacy upon Arabella, in order to promote a Quarrel between them.

Fir'd almoſt to Madneſs at this Thought, he ſtamp'd about his Room, vowing Revenge up⯑on Sir George, execrating Romances, and curſ⯑ing his own Stupidity for not diſcovering Sir George was his Rival, and knowing his plotting Talent, not providing againſt his Artifices.

His firſt Reſolutions were to ſet out imme⯑diately for Sir George's Seat, and force him to confeſs the Part he had acted againſt him: But a [279] Moment's Conſideration convinc'd him, that was not the moſt probable Place to find him in, ſince it was much more likely he was waiting the Succeſs of his Schemes in London, or perhaps at Richmond.

Next to ſatiating his Vengeance, the Pleaſure of detecting him in ſuch a Manner, that he could not poſſibly deny or palliate his Guilt, was next his Heart.

He reſolv'd therefore to give it out, that he was gone to London, to make Lady Bella be⯑lieve it was in Obedience to her Commands that he had left her, with a Purpoſe not to re⯑turn till he had clear'd his Innocence; but in reality to conceal himſelf in his own Apartment, and ſee what Effects his reputed Abſence would produce.

Having thus taken his Reſolution, he ſent for Mr. Roberts his Father's Steward, to whoſe Care he had entruſted Lady Bella in her Retire⯑ment, and acquainting him with Part of his Apprehenſions with Regard to Sir George's At⯑temp [...]s upon his Couſin; he imparted to him his Deſign of ſtaying conceal'd there, in order to diſcover more effectually thoſe Attempts, and to preſerve Lady Bella from any Conſequence of them.

Mr. Roberts approv'd of his Deſign; and aſ⯑ſur'd him of his Vigilance and Care, both in concealing his Stay, and alſo in giving him No⯑tice of every Thing that paſs'd.

Mr. Glanville then wrote a ſhort Billet to Arabella, expreſſing his Grief for her Diſplea⯑ſure, his Departure in Obedience to her Orders, and his Reſolution not to appear in her Preſence, [280] till he could give her convincing Proofs of his Innocence.

This Letter he ſent by Roberts, which Ara⯑bella condeſcended to read, but would return no Anſwer.

Mr. Glanville then mounting his Horſe, which Roberts had order'd to be got ready, rode away, and leaving him at a Houſe he ſometimes put up at, return'd on Foot, and was let in by Mr. Roberts at the Garden-door, and conducted unſeen to his Chamber.

While he paſs'd that Night and great Part of the next Day, meditating on the Treachery of Sir George, and ſoothing his Uneaſineſs with the Hopes of Revenge, Arabella, no leſs diſquieted, mus'd on the Infidelity of her Lover, the De⯑ſpair of Cynecia, and the Impoſſibility of her ever being happy. Then ranſacking her Me⯑mory for Inſtances in her Romances of Ladies equally unfortunate with herſelf, ſhe would ſometimes compare herſelf to one Lady, ſome⯑times to another, adapting their Sentiments, and making Uſe of their Language in her Com⯑plaints.

Great Part of the Day being ſpent in this Manner, the uneaſy Reſtleſsneſs of her Mind made her wiſh to ſee Cynecia again. She long'd to ask her a hundred Queſtions about the un⯑faithful Ariamenes, which the Suddaineſs of her Departure, and her own Aſtoniſhment prevented her from doing, when ſhe made that fatal Diſ⯑covery, which had coſt her ſo much Uneaſineſs.

Sometimes a faint Hope would ariſe in her Mind that Cynecia might be miſtaken, thro' the great Reſemblance that poſſibly was between Ariamenes and Glanville.

[281] She remember'd that Mandana had been de⯑ceiv'd by the Likeneſs of Cyrus to Spitridates; and concluded that illuſtrious Prince inconſtant, becauſe Spitridates, whom ſhe took for Cyrus, ſaw her carry'd away, without offering to reſcue her.

Dwelling with Eagerneſs upon this Thought, becauſe it afforded her a temporary Relief from others more tormenting, ſhe reſolv'd to go to the Park, tho' ſhe had but little Hopes of find⯑ing Cynecia there; ſuppoſing it but too proba⯑ble, that the Diſturbance which the Sight, or fancy'd Sight of Ariamenes had given her, would confine her for ſome Days to her Chamber. Yet however ſmall the Probability was of meet⯑ing with her, ſhe could not reſiſt the impatient Deſire ſhe felt of going to ſeek her.

Diſpenſing therefore with the Attendance of any other Servant but Lucy, ſhe left her Apart⯑ment, with a Deſign of reſuming her uſual Walk, when ſhe was met at her ſtepping out of the Door by Lady L—'s three Daughters, (who had viſited her during her Reſidence at Richmond) and another young Lady.

Theſe Ladies, who to vary the Scene of their Rural Diverſions, were going to croſs over to Twickenham, and walk there, preſt Lady Bella to accompany them. Our melancholy Heroine refus'd them at firſt, but upon their repeated Importunity, recollecting that the Princeſs of Gaul had inform'd her ſhe reſided there, ſhe conſented to go, in Hopes ſome favourable Chance might bring her in their Way, or diſ⯑cover the Place of her Retreat, when ſhe could eaſily find ſome Excuſe for leaving her Compa⯑nions, and going to her.

[282] Mr. Roberts, who according to his Inſtructi⯑ons, narrowly watch'd Arabella's Motions, find⯑ing ſhe did not command his Attendance as uſual, reſolv'd however to be privately of this Party. He had but juſt Time to run up and acquaint Mr. Glanville, and then follow'd the Ladies at a Diſtance, who taking Boat, paſs'd over to Twickenham, which he alſo did as ſoon as he ſaw them landed.

CHAP. VIII.

MR. Glanville, who did not doubt but Roberts would bring him ſome Intelli⯑gence, ſat waiting with anxious Impatience for his Return. The Evening drew on apace, he number'd the Hours, and began to grow uneaſy at Arabella's long Stay. His Chamber Win⯑dow looking into the Garden, he thought he ſaw his Couſin, cover'd with her Veil as uſual, haſten down one of the Walks; his Heart leap'd at this tranſient View, he threw up the Saſh, and looking out, ſaw her very plainly ſtrike into a croſs Walk, and a Moment after ſaw Sir George, who came out of a little Sum⯑mer-houſe, at her Feet. Tranſported with Rage at this Sight, he ſnatch'd up his Sword, flew down the Stairs into the Garden, and came running like a Madman up the Walk in which the Lovers were. The Lady obſerving him firſt, for Sir George's Back was towards [283] him, ſhriek'd aloud, and not knowing what ſhe did, ran towards the Houſe, crying for Help, and came back as faſt, yet not Time enough to prevent Miſchief: For Mr. Glan⯑ville, actuated by an irreſiſtible Fury, cry'd out to Sir George to defend himſelf, who had but juſt Time to draw his Sword and make an in⯑effectual Paſs at Mr. Glanville, when he receiv'd his into his Body, and fell to the Ground.

Mr. Glanville loſing his Reſentment inſenſi⯑bly at the Sight of his Rival's Blood, threw down his Sword, and endeavour'd to ſupport him; while the Lady, who had loſt her Veil in her running, and to the great Aſtoniſhment of Mr. Glanville, prov'd to be his Siſter, came up to them, with Tears and Exclamations, blaming herſelf for all that had happen'd. Mr. Glanville, with a Heart throbbing with Re⯑morſe for what he had done, gaz'd on his Siſter with an accuſing Look, as ſhe hung over the wounded Baronet with ſtreaming Eyes, ſome⯑times wringing her Hands, then claſping them together in an Agony of Grief.

Sir George having Strength enough left to obſerve her Diſorder, and the generous Concern of Glanville, who holding him in his Arms, intreated his Siſter to ſend for proper Aſſiſtance, Dear Charles, ſaid he, you are too kind, I have us'd you very ill, I have deſerv'd my Death from your Hand—You know not what I have been baſe enough to practiſe againſt you— If I can but live to clear your Innocence to Lady Bella, and free you from the Conſequen⯑ces of this Action, I ſhall die ſatisfy'd—

[284] His Strength failing him at theſe Words, he fainted away in Mr. Glanville's Arms; who tho' now convinc'd of his Treachery, was extremely ſhock'd at the Condition he ſaw him in.

Miſs Glanville renewing her Tears and Ex⯑clamations at this Sight, he was oblig'd to lay Sir George gently upon the Ground, and ran to find out ſomebody to ſend for a Surgeon, and to help him to convey him into the Houſe.

In his Way he was met by Mr. Roberts, who was coming to ſeek him; and with a Look of Terror and Confuſion told him, Lady Bella was brought Home extremely ill—that her Life had been in Danger, and that ſhe was but juſt recover'd from a terrible fainting Fit.

Mr. Glanville, tho' greatly alarm'd at this News, forgot not to take all poſſible Care of Sir George; directing Roberts to get ſome Per⯑ſon to carry him into the Houſe, and giving him Orders to procure proper Aſſiſtance, flew to Lady Bella's Apartment.

Her Women had juſt put her to Bed, raving as in a ſtrong Delirium. Mr. Glanville ap⯑proach'd her, and finding ſhe was in a violent Fever, diſpatch'd a Man and Horſe immedi⯑ately to Town, to get Phyſicians, and to ac⯑quaint his Father with what had happen'd.

Mr. Roberts, upon the Surgeon's Report that Sir George was not mortally wounded, came to inform him of this good News, but he ſound him incapable of liſtning to him, and in Ago⯑nies not to be expreſt. 'Twas with Difficulty they forc'd him out of Arabella's Chamber into his own; where throwing himſelf upon his [...], he refus'd to ſee or ſpeak to any Body, till [285] he was told Sir Charles and the Phyſicians were arriv'd.

He then ran eagerly to hear their Opinions of his beloved Couſin, which he ſoon diſcover'd by their ſignificant Geſtures and half pronounc'd Words, to be very bad. They comforted him however, with Hopes that ſhe might recover, and inſiſting upon her being kept very quiet, oblig'd him to quit the Room. While all the neceſſary Methods were taken to abate the Vio⯑lence of the Diſeaſe, Sir Charles, who had been inform'd by his Steward of his Son's Duel with Sir George, was amaz'd to the laſt Degree at two ſuch terrible Accidents.

Having ſeen his Son to his Chamber, and re⯑commended him to be patient and compos'd, he went to viſit the young Baronet, and was not a little ſurpriz'd to find his Daughter ſitting at his Bed's Head, with all the Appearance of a violent Affliction.

Indeed Miſs Glanville's Cares were ſo wholly engroſs'd by Sir George's, that ſhe hardly ever thought of her Couſin Arabella, and had juſt ſtept into her Chamber while the Surgeons were dreſſing Sir George's Wound, and renew'd her Attendance upon him as ſoon as that was over.

Miſs Glanville however, thought proper to make ſome trifling Excuſes to her Father for her Solicitude about Sir George. And the young Baronet, on whom the Fear of Death produc'd its uſual Effects, and made him ex⯑tremely concern'd for the Errors of his paſt Life, and very deſirous of attoning for them if poſſible, aſſur'd Sir Charles, that if he liv'd he [286] would offer himſelf to his Acceptance for a Son-in-law; declaring that he had baſely trifled with the Eſteem of his Daughter, but that ſhe had wholly ſubdued him to herſelf by her for⯑giving Tenderneſs.

Sir Charles was very deſirous of knowing the Occaſion of his Quarrel with his Son, but Sir George was too weak to hold any further Con⯑verſation, upon which Sir Charles, after a ſhort Viſit retir'd, taking Miſs Glanville along with him.

That the Reader, whoſe Imagination is no doubt upon the Stretch to conceive the Meaning of theſe Two extraordinary Incidents, may be left no longer in Suſpence, we think proper to explain them both in the following Chapter, that we may in the next purſue our Hiſtory without Interruption.

CHAP. IX.

OUR fair and afflicted Heroine, accompa⯑nied by the Ladies we have mention'd, having croſs'd the River, purſu'd their Walk upon its winding Banks, entertaining them⯑ſelves with the uſual Topicks of Converſation among young Ladies, ſuch as their Winnings and Loſings at Brag, the Prices of Silks, the neweſt Faſhions, the beſt Hair-Cutter, the Scandal at the laſt Aſſembly, &c.

[287] Arabella was ſo diſguſted with this (as ſhe thought) inſipid Diſcourſe, which gave no Re⯑lief to the Anxiety of her Mind, but added a Kind of Fretfulneſs and Impatience to her Grief; that ſhe reſolv'd to quit them, and with Lucy, go in queſt of the Princeſs of Gaul's Retreat.

The Ladies however, inſiſted upon her not leaving them; and her Excuſe that ſhe was going in ſearch of an unfortunate Unknown, for whom ſhe had vow'd a Friendſhip, made them all immediately reſolve to accompany her, extremely diverted with the Oddity of the De⯑ſign, and ſacrificing her to their Mirth by ſly Leers, Whiſpers, ſtifled Laughs, and a thou⯑ſand little ſprightly Sallies, which the diſconſo⯑late Arabella took no Notice of, ſo deeply were her Thoughts engag'd.

Tho' ſhe knew not which Way to direct her Steps, yet concluding the melancholy Cynccia would certainly chuſe ſome very ſolitary Place for her Reſidence, ſhe rambled about among the leaſt frequented Paths, follow'd by the young Ladies, who ardently deſir'd to ſee this unfor⯑tunate Unknown; tho' at Arabella's earneſt Requeſt, they promis'd not to ſhew themſelves to the Lady, who, ſhe inform'd them, for very urgent Reaſons, was oblig'd to keep herſelf conceal'd.

Fatiguing as this Ramble was to the delicate Spirits of Arabella's Companions, they were en⯑abled to ſupport it by the Diverſion her Beha⯑viour afforded them.

Every Peaſant ſhe met, ſhe enquir'd if a Beau⯑tiful Lady diſguis'd did not [...] thereabout.

[288] To ſome ſhe gave a Deſcription of her Per⯑ſon, to others an Account of the Domeſticks that were with her; not forgetting her Dreſs, her Melancholy, and the great Care ſhe took to keep herſelf conceal'd.

Theſe ſtrange Enquiries, with the ſtrange Language in which they were made, not a lit⯑tle ſurpriz'd the good People to whom ſhe ad⯑dreſs'd herſelf, yet mov'd to Reſpect by the ma⯑jeſtick Lovelineſs of her Perſon, they anſwer'd her in the Negative, without any Mixture of Scoff and Impertinence.

How unfavourable is Chance, ſaid Arabella fretting at the Diſappointment, to Perſons who have any Reliance upon it! This Lady that I have been in Search of ſo long without Succeſs, may probably be found by others who do not ſeek her, whoſe Preſence ſhe may wiſh to avoid, yet not be able.

The young Ladies finding it grew late, ex⯑preſs'd their Apprehenſions at being without any Attendants; and deſir'd Arabella to give over her Search for that Day. Arabella at this Hint of Danger, enquir'd very earneſtly, If they ap⯑prehended any Attempts to carry them away? And without ſtaying for an Anſwer, urg'd them to walk Home as faſt as poſſible, apologizing for the Danger into which ſhe had ſo indiſcreet⯑ly drawn both them and herſelf; yet added her Hopes, that if any Attempt ſhould be made upon their Liberty, ſome generous Cavalier would paſs by who would reſcue them: A Thing ſo common, that they had no Reaſon to de⯑ſpair of it.

[289] Arabella conſtruing the Silence with which her Companions heard theſe Aſſurances, into a Doubt of their being ſo favoured by Fortune, proceeded to inform them of ſeveral Inſtances wherein Ladies met with unexpected Relief and Deliverance from Raviſhers.

She mention'd particularly the Reſcue of Statira by her own Brother, whom ſhe ima⯑gin'd for many Years dead; that of the Prin⯑ceſs Berenice by an abſolute Stranger, and many others, whoſe Names, Characters and Adven⯑tures ſhe occaſionally run over; all which the young Ladies heard with inconceivable Aſto⯑niſhment. And the Detail had ſuch an Effect upon Arabella's Imagination, bewilder'd as i [...] was in the Folies of Romances, that 'ſpying three or four Horſemen riding along the Road towards them, ſhe immediately concluded they would be all ſeiz'd and carry'd off.

Poſſeſs'd with this Belief, ſhe utter'd a loud Cry, and flew to the Water-ſide, which alarm⯑ing the Ladies, who could not imagine what was the Matter, they ran after her as faſt as poſſible.

Arabella ſtop'd when ſhe came to the Water⯑ſide, and looking round about, and not perceiv⯑ing any Boat to waft them over to Richmond, a Thought ſuddenly darted into her Mind, wor⯑thy thoſe ingenious Books which gave it Birth.

Turning therefore to the Ladies, who all at once were enquiring the Cauſe of her Fright;

'Tis now, my fair Companions, ſaid ſhe, with a ſolemn Accent, that the Deſtinies have [290] furniſh'd you with an Opportunity of diſplay⯑ing in a Manner truly Heroick, the Sublimity of your Virtue, and the Grandeur of your Courage to the World.

The Action we have it in our Power to per⯑form will immortalize our Fame, and raiſe us to a Pitch of Glory equal to that of the re⯑nown'd Clelia herſelf.

Like her, we may expect Statues erected to our Honour: Like her, be propos'd as Patterns to Heroines in enſuing Ages: And like her, perhaps, meet with Sceptres and Crowns for our Reward.

What that beauteous Roman Lady perform'd to preſerve herſelf from Violation by the impi⯑ous Sextus, let us imitate to avoid the Violence our intended Raviſhers yonder come to offer us.

Fortune, which has thrown us into this Exi⯑gence, preſents us the Means of gloriouſly eſcaping: And the Admiration and Eſteem of all Ages to come, will be the Recompence of our noble Daring.

Once more, my fair Companions, If your Honour be dear to you, if an immortal Glory be worth your ſeeking, follow the Exam⯑ple I ſhall ſet you, and equal with me the Ro⯑man Clelia.

Saying this, ſhe plung'd into the Thames, in⯑tending to ſwim over it, as Clelia did the Tyber.

The young Ladies, who had liſten'd with ſilent Aſtoniſhment at the long Speech ſhe had made them, the Purport of which not one of them underſtood, ſcream'd out aloud at this [291] horrid Spectacle, and wringing their Hands, ran backwards and forwards like diſtracted Per⯑ſons, crying for Help. Lucy tore her Hair, and was in the utmoſt Agony of Grief, when Mr. Roberts, who, as we have ſaid before, kept them always in Sight, having obſerv'd Arabella running towards the Water-ſide, follow'd them as faſt as he could, and came Time enough up to ſee her frantick Action. Jumping into the River immediately after her, he caught hold of her Gown, and drew her after him to the Shore. A Boat that Inſtant appearing, he put her into it, ſenſeleſs, and to all Appearance dead. He and Lucy ſupporting her, they were waſted over in a few Moments to the other Side: Her Houſe being near the River, Mr. Roberts carry'd her in his Arms to it; and as ſoon as he ſaw her ſhew Signs of returning Life, left her to the Care of the Women, who made haſte to put her into a warm Bed, and ran to find out Mr. Glanville, as we have related.

There remains now only to account for Sir George and Miſs Glanville's ſudden Appear⯑ance, which happen'd, gentle Reader, exactly as follows.

Miſs Glanville, having ſet out pretty late in the Afternoon, with a Deſign of ſtaying all Night at Richmond, as her Chaiſe drove up Kew-Lane, ſaw one of her Couſin's Women, Deborah by Name, talking to a Gentleman, whom, notwithſtanding the Diſguiſe of a Horſe⯑man's Coat, and a Hat ſlouch'd over his Face, ſhe knew to be Sir George Bellmour.

[292] This Sight alarming her Jealouſy, and re⯑newing all her former Suſpicions, that her Cou⯑ſin's Charms rival'd hers in his Heart, as ſoon as ſhe alighted, finding Arabella was not at Home, ſhe retir'd in great Anguiſh of Mind to her Chamber, revolving in her Mind every Particular of Sir George's Behaviour to her Cou⯑ſin in the Country, and finding new Cauſe for Suſpicion in every Thing ſhe recollected, and reflecting upon the Diſguiſe in which ſhe ſaw him, and his Conference with her Woman, ſhe concluded herſelf had all along been the Dupe of his Artifice, and her Couſin the real Object of his Love.

This Thought throwing her into an Extre⯑mity of Rage, all her tendereſt Emotions were loſt in the Deſire of Revenge. She imagin'd to herſelf ſo much Pleaſure from expoſing his Treachery, and putting it our of his Power to deny it, that ſhe reſolv'd, whatever it coſt her, to have that Satisfaction.

Suppoſing therefore Deborah was now re⯑turn'd, ſhe rung her Bell, and commanded her Attendance on her in her Chamber.

The Stern Brow with which ſhe receiv'd her, frighten'd the Girl, conſcious of her Guilt, into a Diſpoſition to confeſs all, even before ſhe was tax'd with any thing.

Miſs Glanville ſaw her Terror, and endea⯑vour'd to heighten it, by entering at once into Complaints and Exclamations againſt her, threatning to acquaint her Father with her Plots to betray her Lady, and aſſuring her of a very ſevere Puniſhment for her Treachery.

[293] The Girl, terrify'd extremely at theſe Me⯑naces, begg'd Miſs Glanville, with Tears, to forgive her, and not to acquaint Sir Charles or her Lady, with her Fault; adding, that ſhe would confeſs all, and never while ſhe liv'd, do ſuch a Thing again.

Miſs Glanville would make her no Promiſes, but urg'd her to confeſs: Upon which Deborah ſobbing, own'd, That for the Sake of the Pre⯑ſents Sir George had made her, ſhe conſented to meet him privately from Time to Time, and give him an Account of every Thing that paſs'd with Regard to her Lady; not thinking there was any Harm in it. That according to his Deſires, ſhe had conſtantly acquainted him with all her Lady's Motions, when, and where ſhe went, how ſhe and Mr. Glanville agreed, and a hundred other Things which he enquir'd about. That that Day in particular, he had intreated her to procure him the M [...]ans of an Interview with her Lady, if poſſible; and un⯑derſtanding Mr. Glanville was not at Richmond, ſhe had let him privately into the Garden, where ſhe hop'd to prevail upon her Lady to go.

What, ſaid Miſs Glanville ſurpriz'd, Is Sir George waiting for my Couſin in the Garden then?

Yes, indeed, Madam, ſaid Deborah: But I'll go and tell him to wait no longer; and never ſpeak to him again, if your Ladyſhip will but be pleas'd to forgive me.

Miſs Glanville having taken her Reſolution, not only promis'd Deborah her Pardon, but alſo [294] a Reward, provided ſhe would contrive it ſo, that ſhe might meet Sir George inſtead of her Couſin.

The Girl, having the true Chamber-Maid Spirit of Intrigue in her, immediately propos'd her putting on one of her Lady's Veils; which as it was now the Cloſe of the Evening, would diſguiſe her ſufficiently; to which Miſs Glanville, tranſported with the Thoughts of thus having an Opportunity of convincing Sir George of his Perfidy, and reproaching him for it, conſented, and bid her bring it without being obſerv'd, into her Chamber.

Deborah informing her, that Sir George was conceal'd in the Summer-Houſe, as ſoon as ſhe had equipp'd herſelf with Arabella's Veil ſhe went into the Walk that led to it; and Sir George, believing her to be that Lady, haſten'd to throw himſelf at her Feet, and had ſcarce got through half a Speech he had ſtudy'd for his preſent Purpoſe, when Mr. Glanville gave a fatal In⯑terruption to his Heroicks, in the Manner we have already related.

CHAP. X.

RICHMOND was now a Scene of the ut⯑moſt Confuſion and Diſtreſs. Arabella's Fever was riſen to ſuch a Height, that ſhe was [295] given over by the Phyſicians; and Sir George's Wounds, tho' not judg'd mortal at firſt, yet by the great Effuſion of Blood had left him in ſo weak a Condition, that he was thought to be in great Danger.

Sir Charles, almoſt diſtracted with the Fears of the Conſequences of Sir George's Death, in⯑treated his Son to quit the Kingdom; but Mr. Glanville, proteſting he would rather die than leave Arabella in that Illneſs, he was oblig'd to give Bail for his Appearance, in Caſe Sir George dy'd: This Affair, notwithſtanding all Endeavours to prevent it, having made a great Noiſe.

Poor Sir Charles, oppreſt as he was with the Weight of all theſe Calamities, was yet oblig'd to labour inceſſantly to keep up the Spirits of his Son and Daughter. The ſettled Deſpair of the one, and the ſilent ſwelling Grief of the other, cut him to the Heart. He omitted no Arguments his Paternal Affection ſuggeſted to him, to moderate their Affliction. Mr. Glan⯑ville often endeavour'd to aſſume a Compoſure he was very far from feeling, in order to ſatisfy his Father. But Miſs Glanville, looking upon herſelf to be the Cauſe of Sir George's Misfor⯑tune, declar'd, She ſhould be miſerable all her Life, if he died.

Arabella in her lucid Intervals, being ſenſible of her Danger, prepar'd for Death, with great Piety and Conſtancy of Mind, having ſolemnly aſſur'd Mr. Glanville of her Forgiveneſs, who would not at that Time enter into an Explana⯑tion [296] of the Affair which had given her Offence for fear of perplexing her. She permitted his Preſence often in her Chamber, and deſir'd with great Earneſtneſs the Aſſiſtance of ſome worthy Divine in her Preparations for Death. The Pious and Learned Doctor—at Sir Charles's Intimation of his Niece's Deſire, came con⯑ſtantly twice a Day to attend her. Her Fever, by a favourable Criſis, and the great Skill of her Phyſicians, left her in a Fortnight; but this violent Diſtemper had made ſuch a Ravage in her delicate Conſtitution, and reduc'd her ſo low that there ſeem'd very little Probability of her Recovery. Doctor—, in whom her un⯑feign'd Piety, her uncommon Firmneſs of Mind, had created a great Eſteem and Tenderneſs for her, took all Opportunities of comforting, ex⯑horting, and praying by her. The Occaſion of her Illneſs being the Subject of every body's Converſation at Richmond, he gently hinted it to her, and urg'd her to explain her Reaſons for ſo extravagant an Action.

In the Divine Frame Arabella was then in, this Action appear'd to her raſh and vain-glori⯑ous, and ſhe acknowledg'd it to be ſo to her pious Monitor: Yet ſhe related the Motives which induc'd her to it, the Danger ſhe was in of being carry'd away, the Parity of her Cir⯑cumſtances then with Clelia, and her emulous Deſire of doing as much to preſerve her Ho⯑nour as that renown'd Roman Lady did for hers.

The good Doctor was extremely ſurpriz'd at this Diſcourſe: He was beginning to think her [297] again delirious; but Arabella added to this Ac⯑count ſuch ſenſible Reaſoning on the Nature of that Fondneſs for Fame, which prompted her to ſo raſh an Undertaking, that the Doctor left her in ſtrange Embarraſſment, not knowing how to account for a Mind at once ſo enlight⯑en'd, and ſo ridiculous.

Mr. Glanville, meeting him as he came out of her Chamber, the Doctor took this Oppor⯑tunity to acknowledge the Difficulties Arabella's inconſiſtent Diſcourſe had thrown him into. Mr. Glanville taking him into his own Apart⯑ment, explain'd the Nature of that ſeeming Inconſiſtency, and expatiated at large upon the Diſorders Romances had occaſion'd in her Ima⯑gination; ſeveral Inſtances of which he re⯑counted, and fill'd the Doctor with the greateſt Aſtoniſhment and Concern. He lamented pa⯑thetically the Ruin ſuch a ridiculous Study had brought on ſo noble a Mind; and aſſur'd Mr. Glanville, he would ſpare no Endeavours to reſcue it from ſo ſhocking a Deluſion.

Mr. Glanville thank'd him for his good De⯑ſign, with a Tranſport which his Fears of his Couſin's Danger almoſt mingled with Tears; and the Doctor and he agreed to expect for ſome few Days longer an Alteration for the better in the Health of her Body, before he attempted the Cure of her Mind. Mr. Glanville's extreme Anxiety had made him in Appearance neglect the repentant Sir George, contenting himſelf with conſtantly ſending twice a Day to enquire after his Health, but had not yet viſited him.

[298] No ſooner had the Phyſicians declared that Arabella was no longer in Danger, than his Mind being freed from that tormenting Load of Suſpence under which it had labour'd while her Recovery was yet doubful, he went to Sir George's Chamber, who by reaſon of his Weakneſs, tho' he was alſo upon the Recovery, ſtill kept his Bed.

Sir George, tho' he ardently wiſh'd to ſee him, yet conſcious of the Injuries he had both done and deſign'd him, could not receive his Viſit without extreme Confuſion: But entering into the Cauſe of their Quarrel, as ſoon as he was able to ſpeak, he freely acknowledg'd his Fault, and all the Steps he had taken to ſupplant him in Arabella's Affection.

Mr. Glanville underſtanding by this Means, that he had brib'd a young Actreſs to perſonate a Princeſs forſaken by him; and had taught her all that Heap of Abſurdity with which ſhe had impos'd upon Arabella, as has been related, deſir'd only by Way of Reparation, That when his Couſin was in a Condition to be ſpoken to upon that Subject, he would condeſcend to own the Fraud to her; which Sir George faithfully pro⯑miſing, an Act of Oblivion paſs'd on Mr. Glanville's Side for all former Injuries, and a ſo⯑lemn Aſſurance from Sir George of inviolable Friendſhip for the future. An Aſſurance, how⯑ever, which Mr. Glanville would willingly have diſpens'd with: For tho' not of a vindictive Temper, it was one of his Maxims, That a Man who had once betray'd him, it would be an Error in Policy ever to truſt again.

CHAP. XI.

THE good Divine, who had the Cure of Arabella's Mind greatly at Heart, no ſooner perceiv'd that the Health of her Body was almoſt reſtor'd, and that he might talk to her without the Fear of any Inconvenience, than he introduc'd the Subject of her throwing her⯑ſelf into the River, which he had before lightly touch'd upon, and ſtill declar'd himſelf diſſatiſ⯑fy'd with.

Arabella, now more diſpos'd to defend this Point than when languiſhing under the Preſſure of Pain and Dejection of Mind, endeavour'd by Arguments founded upon Romantick Hero⯑iſm, to prove, That it was not only reaſonable and juſt, but alſo great and glorious, and exactly conformable to the Rules of Heroick Virtue.

The Doctor liſten'd to her with a mix'd Emotion, between Pity, Reverence, and Amaze⯑ment: And tho' in the Performance of his Of⯑fice he had been accuſtom'd to accommodate his Notions to every Underſtanding, and had therefore accumulated a great Variety of To⯑picks and Illuſtrations; yet he found himſelf now engag'd in a Controverſy for which he was not ſo well prepar'd as he imagin'd, and was at [300] a Loſs for ſome leading Principle, by which he might introduce his Reaſonings, and begin his Confutation.

Tho' he ſaw much to praiſe in her Diſcourſe, he was afraid of confirming her Obſtinacy by Commendation: And tho' he alſo found much to blame, he dreaded to give Pain to a Delicacy he rever'd.

Perceiving however, that Arabella was ſilent, as if expecting his Reply, he reſolv'd not to bring upon himſelf the Guilt of abandoning her to her Miſtake, and the Neceſſity of ſpeaking forc'd him to find ſomething to ſay.

Tho' it is not eaſy, Madam, ſaid he, for any one that has the Honour of converſing with your Ladyſhip to preſerve his Attention free to any other Idea, than ſuch as your Diſcourſe tends immediately to impreſs, yet I have not been able while you was ſpeaking, to refrain from ſome very mortifying Reflections on the Imperfection of all human Happineſs, and the uncertain Conſequences of all thoſe Advantages which we think ourſelves not only at Liberty to deſire, but oblig'd to cultivate.

Tho' I have known ſome Dangers and Di⯑ſtreſſes, reply'd Arabella gravely, yet I did not imagine myſelf ſuch a Mirror of Calamity as could not be ſeen without Concern. If my Life has not been eminently fortunate, it has yet eſcap'd the great Evils of Perſecution, Captivity, Shipwrecks and Dangers to which many Ladies far more Illuſtrious both by Birth and Merit than myſelf, have been expos'd. And indeed, [301] tho' I have ſometimes rais'd Envy, or poſſibly incurr'd Hatred, yet I have no Reaſon to believe I was ever beheld with Pity before.

The Doctor ſaw he had not introduc'd his Diſcourſe in the moſt acceptable Manner; but it was too late to repent.

Let me not, Madam, ſaid he, be cenſur'd before I have fully explain'd my Sentiments.

That you have been envy'd, I can readily believe: For who that gives Way to natural Paſſions has not Reaſon to envy the Lady Ara⯑bella? But that you have been hated, I am in⯑deed leſs willing to think, tho' I know how ea⯑ſily the greater Part of Mankind hate thoſe by whom they are excell'd.

If the Miſery of my Condition, reply'd Arabella, has been able to excite that Melan⯑choly your firſt. Words ſeem'd to imply, Flat⯑tery will contribute very little towards the Im⯑provement of it. Nor do I expect from the Severity of the Sacerdotal Character, any of thoſe Praiſes, which I hear perhaps with too much Pleaſure, from the reſt of the World.

Having been ſo lately on the Brink of that State, in which all Diſtinctions but that of Good⯑neſs are deſtroy'd, I have not recover'd ſo much Laevity, but that I would yet rather hear In⯑ſtructions than Compliments.

If therefore you have obſerv'd in me any dangerous Tenets, corrupt Paſſions, or crimi⯑nal Deſires, I conjure you diſcover me to my⯑ſelf. Let no falſe Civility reſtrain your Admo⯑nitions. Let me know this Evil which can [302] ſtrike a good Man with Horror, and which I dread the more, as I do not feel it.

I cannot ſuppoſe that a Man of your Order would be alarm'd at any other Miſery than Guilt: Nor will I think ſo meanly of him whoſe Di⯑rection I have intreated, as to imagine he can think Virtue unhappy, however overwhelm'd by Diſaſters or Oppreſſion.

Keep me therefore no longer in Suſpence: I expect you will exert the Authority of your Function, and I promiſe you on my Part, Sin⯑cerity and Submiſſion.

The good Man was now compleatly embar⯑raſs'd; he ſaw his Meaning miſtaken, but was afraid to explain it, left he ſhould ſeem to pay Court by a cowardly Retraction: He therefore paus'd a little, and Arabella ſuppoſed he was ſtudying for ſuch Expreſſions as might convey Cenſure without Offence.

Sir, ſaid ſhe, if you are not yet ſatisfy'd of my Willingneſs to hear your Reproofs, let me evince my Docility, by intreating you to con⯑ſider yourſelf as diſpens'd from all Ceremony upon this Occaſion.

Your Imaginations, Madam, reply'd the Doctor, are too quick for Language; you con⯑jecture too ſoon, what you do not wait to hear; and reaſon upon Suppoſitions which can⯑not be allow'd you.

When I mention'd my Reflections upon hu⯑man Miſery, I was far from concluding your Ladyſhip miſerable, compar'd with the reſt of Mankind; and though contemplating the ab⯑ſtracted [303] Idea of poſſible Felicity, I thought that even You might be produc'd as an Inſtance that it is not attainable in this World, I did not impute the Imperfection of your State to Wickedneſs, but intended to obſerve, That though even Virtue be added to external Ad⯑vantages, there will yet be ſomething wanting to Happineſs.

Whoever ſees you, Madam, will immedi⯑ately ſay, That nothing can hinder you from being the happieſt of Mortals, but Want of Power to underſtand your own Advantages. And whoever is admitted to your Converſation, will be convinc'd that you enjoy all that Intel⯑lectual Excellence can confer; yet I ſee you harraſs'd with innumerable Terrors and Per⯑plexities, which never diſturb the Peace of Po⯑verty of Ignorance.

I cannot diſcover, ſaid Arabella, how Po⯑verty or Ignorance can be privileg'd from Ca⯑ſualty or Violence, from the Raviſher, the Robber, or the Enemy. I ſhould hope rather that if Wealth and Knowledge can give no⯑thing elſe, they at leaſt confer Judgment to foreſee Danger, and Power to oppoſe it.

They are not indeed, return'd the Doctor, ſecur'd againſt real Misfortunes, but they are happily defended from wild Imaginations: They do not ſuſpect what cannot happen, nor figure Raviſhers at a Diſtance, and leap into Rivers to eſcape them.

Do you ſuppoſe then, ſaid Arabella, that I was frighted without Cauſe?

[304] It is certain, Madam, reply'd he, that no Injury was intended you.

Diſingennuity, Sir, ſaid Arabella, does not become a Clergyman—I think too well of your Underſtanding to imagine your Fallacy de⯑ceives yourſelf: Why then ſhould you hope that it will deceive me?

The Laws of Conference require that the Terms of the Queſtion and Anſwer be the ſame.

I ask, if I had not Cauſe to be frighted? Why then am I anſwer'd that no Injury was intended?

Human Beings cannot penetrate Intentions, nor regulate their Conduct but by exterior Appearances. And ſurely there was ſufficient Appearance of intended Injury, and that the greateſt which my Sex can ſuffer.

Why, Madam, ſaid the Doctor, ſhould you ſtill perſiſt in ſo wild an Aſſertion?

A coarſe Epithet, ſaid Arabella, is no Confutation. It reſts upon you to ſhew, That in giving Way to my Fears, even ſuppoſing them groundleſs, I departed from the Character of a reaſonable Perſon.

I am afraid, replied the Doctor, of a Di⯑ſpute with your Ladyſhip, not becauſe I think myſelf in Danger of Defeat, but be⯑cauſe being accuſtom'd to ſpeak to Scholars with Scholaſtick Ruggedneſs, I may perhaps depart in the Heat of Argument, from that Reſpect to which you have ſo great a Right, and give Offence to a Perſon I am really afraid to diſpleaſe.

[305] But, if you will promiſe to excuſe my Ardour, I will endeavour to prove that you have been frighted without Reaſon.

I ſhould be content, replied Arabella, to obtain Truth upon harder Terms, and there⯑fore intreat you to begin.

The Apprehenſion of any future Evil, Ma⯑dam, ſaid the Divine, which is called Ter⯑ror, when the Danger is from natural Cauſes, and Suſpicion, when it proceeds from a mo⯑ral Agent, muſt always ariſe from Compa⯑riſon.

We can judge of the Future only by the Paſt, and have therefore only Reaſon to fear or ſuſpect, when we ſee the ſame Cauſes in Motion which have formerly produc'd Miſ⯑chief, or the ſame Meaſures taken as have before been preparatory to a Crime.

Thus, when the Sailor in certain Lati⯑tudes ſees the Clouds riſe, Experience bids him expect a Storm. When any Monarch levies Armies, his Neighbours prepare to re⯑pel an Invaſion.

This Power of Prognoſtication, may, by Reading and Converſation, be extended be⯑yond our own Knowledge: And the great Uſe of Books, is that of participating without Labour or Hazard the Experience of others.

But upon this Principle how can you find any Reaſon for your late Fright.

Has it ever been known, that a Lady of your Rank was attack'd with ſuch Inten⯑tions, in a Place ſo publick, without any [306] Preparations made by the Violator for Defence or Eſcape?

Can it be imagin'd that any Man would ſo raſhly expoſe himſelf to Infamy by Failure, and to the Gibbet by Succeſs?

Does there in the Records of the World appear a ſingle Inſtance of ſuch hopeleſs Vil⯑lany?

It is now Time, Sir, ſaid Arabella,, to an⯑ſwer your Queſtions, before they are too many to be remembered.

The Dignity of my Birth can very little defend me againſt an Inſult to which the Heireſſes of great and powerful Empires, the Daughters of valiant Princes, and the Wives of renowned Monarchs, have been a thouſand Times expoſed.

The Danger which you think ſo great, would hardly repel a determin'd Mind; for in Effect, Who would have attempted my Re⯑ſcue, ſeeing that no Knight or valiant Ca⯑valier was within View?

What then ſhould have hinder'd him from placing me in a Chariot? Driving it into the pathleſs Deſart? And immuring me in a Caſtle, among Woods and Mountains? Or hiding me perhaps in the Caverns of a Rock? Or confining me in ſome Iſland of an immenſe Lake?

From all this, Madam, interrupted the Clergyman, he is hinder'd by Impoſſibility.

[307] He cannot carry you to any of theſe dread⯑ful Places, becauſe there is no ſuch Caſtle, Deſart, Cavern, or Lake.

You will pardon me, Sir, ſaid Arabella, it I recur to your own Principles:

You allow that Experience may be gain'd by Books: And certainly there is no Part of Knowledge in which we are oblig'd to truſt them more than in Deſcriptive Geo⯑graphy.

The moſt reſtleſs Activity in the longeſt Life, can ſurvey but a ſmall Part of the habitable Globe: And the reſt can only be known from the Report of others.

Univerſal Negatives are ſeldom ſafe, and are leaſt to be allow'd when the Diſputes are about Objects of Senſe; where one Po⯑ſition cannot be inferr'd from another.

That there is a Caſtle, any Man who has ſeen it may ſafely affirm. But you can⯑not with equal Reaſon, maintain that there is no Caſtle, becauſe you have not ſeen it.

Why ſhould I imagine that the Face of the Earth is alter'd ſince the Time of thoſe Heroines, who experienc'd ſo many Changes of uncouth Captivity?

Caſtles indeed, are the Works of Art; and are therefore ſubject to Decay. But Lakes, and Caverns, and Deſarts, muſt always remain.

And why, ſince you call for Inſtances, ſhould I not dread the Misfortunes which happen'd [308] to the divine Clelia, who was carry'd to one of the Iſles of the Thraſymenian Lake?

Or thoſe which befel the beautiful Candace, Queen of Ethiopia, whom the Pyrate Zeno⯑donus wander'd with on the Seas?

Or the Accidents which imbitter'd the Life of the incomparable Cleopatra?

Or the Perſecutions which made that of the fair Eliſa miſerable?

Or, in fine, the various Diſtreſſes of many other fair and virtuous Princeſſes: Such as thoſe which happen'd to Olympia, Bellamira, Pariſatis, Berenice, Amalagantha, Agione, Al⯑byſinda, Placidia, A [...]ſinoe, Deidamia, and a thouſand others I could mention.

To the Names of many of theſe illuſtrious Sufferers I am an abſolute Stranger, replied the Doctor.

The reſt I ſaintly remember ſome Mention of in thoſe contemptible Volumes, with which Children are ſometimes injudiciouſly ſuffer'd to amuſe their Imaginations; but which I little expected to hear quoted by your Ladyſhip in a ſerious Diſcourſe.

And though I am very far from catching Occaſions of Reſentment, yet I think myſelf at Liberty to obſerve, That if I merited your Cenſure for one indelicate Epithet, we have engag'd on very unequal Terms, if I may not likewiſe complain of ſuch contemptuous Ridicule as you are pleas'd to exerciſe upon my Opinions by oppoſing them with the Au⯑thority of Scribblers, not only of Fictions, [309] but of ſenſeleſs Fictions; which at once vi⯑tiate the Mind, and pervert the Unſtander⯑ſtanding; and which if they are at any Time read with Safety, owe their Innocence only to their Abſurdity.

From theſe Books, Sir, ſaid Arabella, which you condemn with ſo much Ardour, though you acknowledge yourſelf little acquainted with them, I have learnt not to recede from the Conditions I have granted, and ſhall not therefore cenſure the Licence of your Lan⯑guage, which glances from the Books upon the Readers.

Theſe Books, Sir, thus corrupt, thus ob⯑ſurd, thus dangerous alike to the Intellect and Morals, I have read; and that I hope without Injury to my Judgment, or my Vir⯑tue.

The Doctor, whoſe Vehemence had hin⯑der'd him from diſcovering all the Conſequen⯑ces of his Poſition, now found himſelf entan⯑gled, and reply'd in a ſubmiſſive Tone,

I confeſs, Madam, my Words imply an Accuſation very remote from my Intention.

It has always been the Rule of my Life, not to juſtify any Words or Actions becauſe they mine.

I am aſham'd of my Negligence, I am ſorry for my Warmth, and intreat your Lady⯑ſhip to pardon▪ a Fault which I hope never to repeat.

The Reparation, Sir, ſaid Arabella ſmiling, over-balances the Offence, and by thus daring [310] to own you have been in the Wrong, you have rais'd in me a much higher Eſteem for you.

Yet I will not pardon you, added ſhe, without enjoining you a Penance for the Fault you own you have committed; and this Pe⯑nance ſhall be to prove,

Firſt, That theſe Hiſtories you condemn are Fictions.

Next, That they are abſurd.

And Laſtly, That they are Criminal.

The Doctor was pleas'd to find a Reconci⯑liation offer'd upon ſo very eaſy Terms, with a Perſon whom he beheld at once with Reve⯑rence and Affection, and could not offend without extreme Regret.

He therefore anſwered with a very chearful Compoſure:

To prove thoſe Narratives to be Fictions, Madam, is only difficult, becauſe the Poſition is almoſt too evident for Proof.

Your Ladyſhip knows, I ſuppoſe to what Authors theſe Writings are aſcrib'd?

To the French Wits of the laſt Century, ſaid Arabella.

And at what Diſtance, Madam, are the Facts related in them from the Age of the Writer?

I was never exact in my Computation, re⯑plied Arablela; but I think moſt of the Events happen'd about two thouſand Years ago.

How then, Madam, reſum'd the Doctor, could theſe Events be ſo minutely known to [311] Writers ſo far remote from the Time in which they happen'd?

By Records, Monuments, Memoirs, and Hiſtories, anſwered the Lady.

But by what Accident, then, ſaid the Doctor ſmiling, did it happen theſe Records and Mo⯑numents were kept univerſally ſecret to Man⯑kind till the laſt Century?

What brought all the Memoirs of the re⯑moteſt Nations and earlieſt Ages only to France?

Where were they hidden that none could con⯑ſult them but a few obſcure Authors?

And whither are they now vaniſhed again that they can be found no more?

Arabella having ſat ſilent a while, told him, That ſhe found his Queſtions very difficult to be anſwer'd; and that though perhaps the Au⯑thors themſelves could have told whence they borrowed their Materials, ſhe ſhould not at preſent require any other Evidence of the firſt Aſſertion:

But allow'd him to ſuppoſe them Fictions, and requir'd now that he ſhould ſhew them to be abſurd.

Your Ladyſhip, return'd he, has, I find, too much Underſtanding to ſtruggle againſt Demonſtration, and too much Veracity to de⯑ny your Convictions; therefore ſome of the Arguments by which I intended to ſhew the Falſhood of theſe Narratives may be now uſed to prove their Abſurdity.

[312] You grant them, Madam, to be Fictions?

Sir, interrupted Arabella eagerly, You are again infringing the Laws of Diſputation.

You are not to confound a Suppoſition of which I allow you only the preſent Uſe, with an unlimited and irrevocable Conceſ⯑ſion.

I am too well acquainted with my own Weakneſs to conclude an Opinion falſe, merely becauſe I find myſelf unable to de⯑fend it.

But I am in haſte to hear the Proof of the other Poſitions, not only becauſe they may perhaps ſupply what is deficient in your Evi⯑dence of the firſt, but becauſe I think it of more Importance to detect Corruption than Fiction.

Though indeed Falſhood is a Species of Cor⯑ruption, and what Falſhood is more hateful than the Falſhood of Hiſtory.

Since you have drawn me back, Madam, to the firſt Queſtion, returned the Doctor, Let me know what Arguments your Lady⯑ſhip can produce for the Veracity of theſe Books.

That there are many Objections againſt it, you yourſelf have allowed, and the high⯑eſt moral Evidence of Falſhood appears when there are many Arguments againſt an Aſſertion, and none for it.

[313] Sir, replied Arabella, I ſhall never think that any Narrative, which is not confuted by its own Abſurdity, is without one Argument at leaſt on its Side; there is a Love of Truth in the human Mind, if not naturally implanted, ſo eaſily obtained from Reaſon and Expe⯑rience, that I ſhould expect it univerſally to prevail where there is no ſtrong Temptation to Deceit; we hate to be deceived, we therefore hate thoſe that deceive us; we deſire not to be hated, and therefore know that we are not to deceive. Shew me an equal Motive to Falſhood, or confeſs that every Relation has ſome Right to Credit.

This may be allowed, Madam, ſaid the Doc⯑tor, when we claim to be credited, but that ſeems not to be the Hope or Intention of theſe Writers.

Surely Sir, replied Arabella, you muſt miſ⯑take their Deſign; he that writes without In⯑tention to be credited, muſt write to little Pur⯑poſe; for what Pleaſure or Advantage can a⯑riſe from Facts that never happened? What Examples can be afforded by the Patience of thoſe who never ſuffered, or the Chaſtity of thoſe who were never ſolicited? The great End of Hiſtory, is to ſhew how much human Nature can endure or perform. When we hear a Story in common Life that raiſes our Wonder or Compaſſion, the firſt Confutation ſtills our Emotions, and however we were touched before, we then chaſe it from the Me⯑mory with Contempt as a Trifle, or with In⯑dignation as an Impoſture. Prove, therefore, that the Books which I have hitherto read as [314] Copies of Life, and Models of Conduct, are empty Fictions, and from this Hour I deliver them to Moths and Mould; and from this Time conſider their Authors as Wretches who cheated me of thoſe Hours I ought to have dedicated to Application and Improvement, and betrayed me to a Waſte of thoſe Years in which I might have laid up Knowledge for my future Life.

Shakeſpear, ſaid the Doctor, calls juſt Re⯑ſentment the Child of Integrity, and therefore I do not wonder, that what Vehemence the Gentleneſs of your Ladyſhip's Temper allows, ſhould be exerted upon this Occaſion. Yet though I cannot forgive theſe Authors for ha⯑ving deſtroyed ſo much valuable Time, yet I cannot think them intentionally culpable, be⯑cauſe I cannot believe they expected to be cre⯑dited. Truth is not always injured by Fiction. An admirable^* Writer of our own Time, has found the Way to convey the moſt ſolid In⯑ſtructions, the nobleſt Sentiments, and the moſt exalted Piety, in the pleaſing Dreſs of a^† No⯑vel, and, to uſe the Words of the greateſt^‡ Genius in the preſent Age, ‘Has taught the Paſſions to move at the Command of Vir⯑tue.’ The Fables of Aeſop, though never I ſuppoſe believed, yet have been long conſi⯑dered as Lectures of moral and domeſtic Wiſdom, ſo well adapted to the Faculties of Man, that they have been received by all civi⯑lized Nations; and the Arabs themſelves have honoured his Tranſlator with the Appellation of Looman the Wiſe.

[315] The Fables of Aeſop, ſaid Arabella, are a⯑mong thoſe of which the Abſurdity diſcovers itſelf, and the Truth is compriſed in the Ap⯑plication; but what can be ſaid of thoſe Tales which are told with the ſolemn Air of hiſtori⯑cal Truth, and if falſe convey no Inſtruction?

That they cannot be defended Madam, ſaid the Doctor, it is my Purpoſe to prove, and if to evince their Falſhood be ſufficient to procure their Baniſhment from your Ladyſhip's Cloſet, their Day of Grace is near an end. How is any oral, or written Teſtimony, confuted or confirmed?

By comparing it, ſays the Lady, with the Teſtimony of others, or with the natural Ef⯑fects and ſtanding Evidence of the Facts rela⯑ted, and ſometimes by comparing it with itſelf.

If then your Ladyſhip will abide by this laſt, returned he, and compare theſe Books with antient Hiſtories, you will not only find innu⯑merable Names, of which no Mention was ever made before, but Perſons who lived in different Ages, engaged as the Friends or Ri⯑vals of each other. You will perceive that your Authors have parcelled out the World at Diſcretion, erected Palaces, and eſtabliſhed Monarchies wherever the Conveniency of their Narrative required them, and ſet Kings and Queens over imaginary Nations. Nor have they conſidered themſelves as inveſted with leſs Authority over the Works of Nature, than the Inſtitutions of Men; for they have diſtributed Mountains and Deſarts, Gulphs and Rocks, wherever they wanted them, and whenever the Courſe of their Story required an Expedient, [316] raiſed a gloomy Foreſt, or overflowed the Re⯑gions with a rapid Stream.

I ſuppoſe, ſaid Arabella, you have no In⯑tention to deceive me, and ſince, if what you have aſſerted be true, the Cauſe is undefenſi⯑ble, I ſhall trouble you no longer to argue on this Topic, but deſire now to hear why, ſup⯑poſing them Fictions, and intended to be re⯑ceived as Fictions, you cenſure them as ab⯑ſurd?

The only Excellence of Falſhood, anſwered he, is its Reſemblance to Truth; as therefore any Narrative is more liable to be confuted by its Inconſiſtency with known Facts, it is at a greater Diſtance from the Perfection of Fic⯑tion; for there can be no Difficulty in framing a Tale, if we are left at Liberty to invert all Hiſtory and Nature for our own Conveniency. When a Crime is to be concealed, it is eaſy to cover it with an imaginary Word. When Virtue is to be rewarded, a Nation with a new Name may, without any Ex⯑pence of Invention, raiſe her to the Throne. When Arioſto was told of the Magnificence of his Palaces, he anſwered, that the Coſt of po⯑etical Architecture was very little; and ſtill leſs is the Coſt of Building without Art, than without Materials. But their hiſtorical Failures may be eaſily paſſed over, when we conſider their phyſical or philoſophical Abſur⯑dities; to bring Men together from different Countries does not ſhock with every inherent or demonſtrable Abſurdity, and therefore when we read only for Amuſement, ſuch Impropri⯑eries may be born: But who can forbear to [317] throw away the Story that gives to one Man the Strength of Thouſands; that puts Life or Death in a Smile or a Frown; that recounts Labours and Sufferings to which the Powers of Humanity are utterly unequal; that disfigures the whole Appearance of the World, and re⯑preſents every Thing in a Form different from that which Experience has ſhewn. It is the Fault of the beſt Fictions, that they teach young Minds to expect ſtrange Adventures and ſudden Viciſſitudes, and therefore encou⯑rage them often to truſt to Chance. A long Life may be paſſed without a ſingle Occur⯑rence that can cauſe much Surprize, or pro⯑duce any unexpected Conſequence of great Importance; the Order of the World is ſo eſtabliſhed, that all human Affairs proceed in a regular Method, and very little Opportunity is left for Sallies or Hazards, for Aſſault or Reſcue; but the Brave and the Coward, the Sprightly and the Dull, ſuffer themſelves to be carried alike down the Stream of Cuſtom.

Arabella, who had for ſome Time liſtened with a Wiſh to interrupt him, now took Advantage of a ſhort Pauſe. I cannot imagine, Sir, ſaid ſhe, that you intend to deceive me, and therefore I am inclined to believe that you are yourſelf miſtaken, and that your Applica⯑tion to Learning has hindered you from that Acquaintance with the World, in which theſe Authors excelled. I have not long converſed in Public, yet I have found that Life is ſub⯑ject to many Accidents. Do you count my late Eſcape for nothing? Is it to be numbered among daily and curſory Tranſactions, that a [318] Woman flies from a Raviſher into a rapid Stream?

You muſt not, Madam, ſaid the Doctor, urge as an Argument the Fact which is at pre⯑ſent the Subject of Diſpute.

Arabella bluſhing at the Abſurdity ſhe had been guilty of, and not attempting any Sub⯑terfuge or Excuſe, the Doctor found himſelf at Liberty to proceed:

You muſt not imagine, Madam, continued he, that I intend to arrogate any Superiority, when I obſerve that your Ladyſhip muſt ſuffer me to decide, in ſome Meaſure authoritatively, whether Life is truly deſcribed in thoſe Books; the Likeneſs of a Picture can only be determin⯑ed by a Knowledge of the Original. You have yet had little Opportunity of knowing the Ways of Mankind, which cannot be learned but from Experience, and of which the higheſt Underſtanding, and the loweſt, muſt enter the World in equal Ignorance. I have lived long in a public Character, and have thought it my Duty to ſtudy thoſe whom I have under⯑taken to admoniſh or inſtruct. I have never been ſo rich as to affright Men into Diſguiſe and Concealment, nor ſo poor as to be kept at a Diſtance too great for accurate Obſerva⯑tion. I therefore preſume to tell your Lady⯑ſhip, with great Confidence, that your Wri⯑ters have inſtituted a World of their own, and that nothing is more different from a human Being, than Heroes or Heroines.

I am afraid, Sir, ſaid Arabella, that the Difference is not in Favour of the preſent World.

[319] That, Madam, anſwered he your own Penetration will enable you to judge when it ſhall have made you equally acquainted with both: I have no deſire to determine a Queſtion, the Solution of which will give ſo little Pleaſure to Purity and Benevolence.

The Silence of a Man who loves to praiſe is a Cenſure ſufficiently ſevere, ſaid the Lady. May it never happen that you ſhould be unwilling to mention the Name of Arabella. I hope wherever Corruption prevails in the World, to live in it with Virtue, or, if I find myſelf too much endanger'd, to retire from it with Innocence. But if you can ſay ſo little in Commendation of Mankind, how will you prove theſe Hiſtories to be vicious, which if they do not deſcribe real Life, give us an Idea of a better Race of Beings than now inhabit the World.

It is of little Importance, Madam, replied the Doctor, to decide whether in the real or fictitious Life, moſt Wickedneſs is to be found. Books ought to ſupply an Antidote to Example, and if we retire to a contem⯑plation of Crimes, and continue in our Cloſets to inflame our Paſſions, at what time muſt we rectify our Words, or purify our Hearts? The immediate Tendency of theſe Books which your Ladyſhip muſt allow me to mention with ſome Severity, is to give new Fire to the Paſſions of Revenge and Love; two Paſſions which, even without ſuch power⯑ful Auxiliaries, it is one of the ſevereſt La⯑bours of Reaſon and Piety to ſuppreſs, and which yet muſt be ſuppreſſed if we hope to be [320] approved in the Sight of the only Being where Approbation can make us Happy. I am afraid your Ladyſhip will think me too ſerious.—I have already learned too much from you, ſaid Arabella, to preſume to inſtruct you, yet ſuffer me to caution you ne⯑ver to diſhonour your ſacred Office by the Low⯑lineſs of Apologies. Then let me again ob⯑ſerve, reſumed he, that theſe Books ſoften the Heart to Love, and harden it to Murder. that they teach Women to exact Ven⯑geance, and Men to execute it; teach Women to expect not only Worſhip, but the dteadful Worſhip of human Sacrifices. Every Page of theſe Volumes is filled with ſuch extravagance of Praiſe, and expreſſions of Obedience as one human Being ought not to hear from another; or with Accounts of Battles, in which thouſands are ſlaughtered for no other Purpoſe than to gain a Smile from the haughty Beauty, who ſits a calm Spectatreſs of the Ruin and De⯑ſolation, Bloodſhed and Miſery, incited by herſelf.

It is impoſſible to read theſe Tales with out leſſening part of that Humility, which by preſerving in us a Senſe of our Alliance with all human nature, keeps us awake to Ten⯑derneſs and Sympathy, or without impairing that Compaſſion which is implanted in us as an Incentive to Acts of Kindneſs. If there be any preſerved by natural Softneſs, or early Education from learning Pride and Cruelty, they are yet in danger of being betrayed to the Vanity of Beauty, and taught the Arts of Intrigue.

[321] Love, Madam, is, you know, the Buſineſs, the ſole Buſineſs of Ladies in Romances. Arabella's Bluſhes now hinder'd him from proceeding as he had intended. I perceive, continued, he that my Arguments begin to be leſs agreeable to your Ladyſhip's Delicacy, I ſhall therefore inſiſt no longer upon falſe Tenderneſs of Sentiment, but proceed to thoſe Outrages of the violent Paſſions which, though not more dangerous, are more generally hateful.

It is not neceſſary, Sir, interrupted Arabella, that you ſtrengthen by any new Proof a Poſi⯑tion which when calmly conſidered cannot be denied; my Heart yields to the Force of Truth, and I now wonder how the Blaze of Enthu⯑ſiaſtic Bravery, could hinder me from remark⯑ing with Abhorrence the Crime of deliberate unneceſſary Bloodſhed.

I begin to perceive that I have hitherto at leaſt trifled away my Time, and fear that I have already made ſome Approaches to the Crime of encouraging Violence and Revenge. I hope, Madam, ſaid the good Man with Horror in his Looks, that no Life was ever loſt by your In⯑citement. Arabella ſeeing him thus moved, burſt into Tears, and could not immediately anſwer. Is it poſſible, cried the Doctor, that ſuch Gentleneſs and Elegance ſhould be ſtained with Blood? Be not too haſty in your Cenſure, ſaid Arabella, recovering herſelf, I tremble in⯑deed to think how nearly I have apprroached the Brink of Murder, when I thought myſelf only conſulting my own Glory; but whatever I ſuffer, I will never more demand or inſtigate Vengeance, nor conſider my Punctilios as [322] important enough to be ballanced againſt Life.

The Doctor confirmed her in her new Re⯑ſolutions, and thinking Solitude was neceſſary to compoſe her Spirits after the Fatigue of ſo long a Converſation, be retired to acquaint Mr Glanville with his Succeſs, who in the Tranſ⯑port of his Joy was almoſt ready to throw himſelf at his Feet, to thank him for the Miracle, as he called it, that he had performed.

CHAP. XII.

MR Glanville, who fancied to himſelf the moſt raviſhing Delight from converſing with his lovely Couſin, now recovered to the free Uſe of all her noble Powers of Reaſon, would have paid her a Viſit that afternoon, had not a moments Reflection convinced him that now was the Time, when her Mind was labouring under the force of Conviction, to introduce the repentant Sir George to her, who by confeſſing the ridiculous Farce he had invented to deceive her, might reſtore him to her good Opinion, and add to the Doctor's ſolid Arguments the poignant Sting of Ri⯑dicule which ſhe would then perceive ſhe had incurred.

Sir George being now able to leave his Cham⯑ber, and Arabella well enough recovered to admit a Viſit in hers, Mr Glanville intreated his Father to wait on her, and get Permiſſion [323] for Sir George to attend her upon a Buſineſs of ſome Conſequence. Sir Charles no ſooner mentioned this Requeſt, than Arabella after a little Heſitation complied with it. As ſhe had been kept a Stranger to all the Particulars of Mr Glanville's Quarrels with the young Baronet, her Thoughts were a little perplex'd concerning the Occaſion of this Viſit, and her Embarraſsment was conſiderably increaſed by the Confuſion which ſhe perceived in the Countenance of Sir George. It was not without ſome Tokens of a painfully ſuppreſt Reluctance that Sir George conſented to per⯑form his Promiſe, when Mr Glanville claim'd it, but the Diſadvantages that would attend his Breach of it, dejected and humbled as he now was, preſenting themſelves in a forcible manner to his Imagination, confirmed his wavering Reſolutions. And ſince he found himſelf obliged to be his own Accuſer, he en⯑deavoured to do it with the beſt Grace he could. Acknowledging therefore to Lady Bella all the Artifices her Deception by Ro⯑mances had given him Encouragement to uſe upon her, and explaining very explicitly the laſt with relation to the pretended Princeſs of Gaul, he ſubmiſſively aſked her Pardon for the Offence it would now give her, as well as for the Trouble it had formerly.

Arabella ſtruck with inconceivable Cnfuſion, having only bowed her Head to his Apology deſi⯑red to be left alone, and continued for near two Hours afterwards wholly abſorb'd in the moſt diſagreeable Reflections on the Abſurdity of her paſt Behaviour, and the Contempt and Ri⯑dicule [324] to which ſhe now ſaw plainly ſhe had expoſed herſelf. The Violence of theſe firſt Emotions having at length ſubſided, ſhe ſent for Sir Charles, and Mr. Glanville, and having with a noble Ingenuity expatiated upon the Follies her vitiated Judgment had led her into, ſhe apologized to the firſt, for the frequent Cauſes ſhe had given him of Uneaſineſs; and, turning to Mr. Glanville, whom ſhe beheld with a Look of mingled Tenderneſs and Mo⯑deſty, To give you myſelf, with all my re⯑maining Imperfections, is making you but a poor Preſent in return for the Obligations your generous Affection has laid me under to you; yet ſince I am ſo happy as to be deſired for a Partner for Life by a Man of your Senſe and Honour, I will endeavour to make myſelf as worthy as I am able of ſuch a favourable Di⯑ſtinction.

Mr. Glanville kiſſed the Hand ſhe gave him with an emphatic Silence, while Sir Charles, in the moſt obliging Manner imaginable, thanked her for the Honour ſhe conferred both on himſelf and Son by this Alliance.

Sir George, entangled in his own Artifices, ſaw himſelf under a Neceſſity of confirming the Promiſes he had made to Miſs Glanville during his Fit of Penitence, and was accordingly mar⯑ried to that young Lady, at the ſame Time that Mr. Glanville and Arabella were united.

We chuſe, Reader, to expreſs this Circum⯑ſtance, though the ſame, in different Words, as well to avoid Repetition, as to intimate that the firſt mentioned Pair were indeed only mar⯑ried [325] in the common Acceptation of the Word; that is, they were privileged to join Fortunes, Equipages, Titles, and Expence; while Mr. Glanville and Arabella were united, as well in theſe, as in every Virtue and laudable Affec⯑tion of the Mind.