opinion of his wife), news arrived that the rebels had given the
duke the slip, and had got a day's march towards London; and soon
after arrived a famous Jacobite squire, who, with great joy in his
countenance, shook the landlord by the hand, saying, "All's our own,
boy, ten thousand honest Frenchmen are landed in Suffolk. Old
England for ever! ten thousand French, my brave lad! I am going to tap
away directly."
This news determined the opinion of the wise man, and he resolved to
make his court to the young lady when she arose; for he had now (he
said) discovered that she was no other than Madam Jenny Cameron
herself.
Chapter 3
A very short chapter, in which however is a Sun, a Moon, a Star, and
an Angel
The sun (for he keeps very good hours at this time of the year)
had been some time retired to rest, when Sophia arose greatly
refreshed by her sleep; which, short as it was, nothing but her
extreme fatigue could have occasioned; for, though she had told her
maid, and perhaps herself too, that she was perfectly easy when she
left Upton, yet it is certain her mind was a little affected with that
malady which is attended with all the restless symptoms of a fever,
and is perhaps the very distemper which physicians mean (if they
mean anything) by the fever on the spirits.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick likewise left her bed at the same time; and, having
summoned her maid, immediately dressed herself. She was really a
very pretty woman, and, had she been in any other company but that
Sophia, might have been thought beautiful; but when Mrs. Honour of her
own accord attended (for her mistress would not suffer her to be
waked), and had equipped our heroine, the charms of Mrs.
Fitzpatrick, who had performed the office of the morning-star, and had
preceded greater glories, shared the fate of that star, and were
totally eclipsed the moment those glories shone forth.
Perhaps Sophia never looked more beautiful than she did at this
instant. We ought not, therefore, to condemn the maid of the inn for
her hyperbole, who, when she descended, after having lighted the fire,
declared, and ratified it with an oath, that if ever there was an
angel upon earth, she was now above-stairs.
Sophia had acquainted her cousin with her design to go to London;
and Mrs. Fitzpatrick had agreed to accompany her; for the arrival of
her husband at Upton had put an end to her design of going to Bath, or
to her aunt Western. They had therefore no sooner finished their
tea, than Sophia proposed to set out, the moon then shining
extremely bright, and as for the frost she defied it; nor had she
any of those apprehensions which many young ladies would have felt
at travelling by night; for she had, as we have before observed,
some little degree of natural courage; and this, her present
sensations, which bordered somewhat on despair, greatly encreased.
Besides, as she had already travelled twice with safety by the light
of the moon, she was the better emboldened to trust to it a third
time.
The disposition of Mrs. Fitzpatrick was more timorous; for, though
the greater terrors had conquered the less, and the presence of her
husband had driven her away at so unseasonable an hour from Upton,
yet, being now arrived at a place where she thought herself safe
from his pursuit, these lesser terrors of I know not what operated
so strongly, that she earnestly entreated her cousin to stay till
the next morning, and not expose herself to the dangers of
travelling by night.
Sophia, who was yielding to an excess, when she could neither
laugh nor reason her cousin out of these apprehensions, at last gave
way to them. Perhaps, indeed, had she known of her father's arrival at
Upton, it might have been more difficult to have persuaded her; for as
to Jones, she had, I am afraid, no great horror at the thoughts of
being overtaken by him; nay, to confess the truth, I believe wished
than feared it; though I might honestly enough have concealed this
wish from the reader, as it was one of those secret spontaneous
emotions of the soul to which the reason is often a stranger.
When our young ladies had determined to remain all that evening in
their inn, they were attended by the landlady, who desired to know
what their ladyships would be pleased to eat. Such charms were there
in the voice, in the manner, and in the affable deportment of
Sophia, that she ravished the landlady to the highest degree; and that
good woman, concluding that she had attended Jenny Cameron, became
in a moment a stanch Jacobite, and wished heartily well to the young
Pretender's cause, from the great sweetness and affability with
which she had been treated by his supposed mistress.
The two cousins began now to impart to each other their reciprocal
curiosity; to know what extraordinary accidents on both sides
occasioned this so strange and unexpected meeting. At last Mrs.
Fitzpatrick, having obtained of Sophia a promise of communicating
likewise in her turn, began to relate what the reader, if he is
desirous to know her history, may read in the ensuing chapter.
Chapter 4
The history of Mrs. Fitzpatrick
Mrs. Fitzpatrick, after a silence of a few moments, fetching a
deep sigh, thus began:
"It is natural to the unhappy to feel a secret concern in
recollecting those periods of their lives which have been most
delightful to them. The remembrance of past pleasures affects us
with a kind of tender grief, like what we suffer for departed friends;
and the ideas of both may be said to haunt our imaginations.
"For this reason, I never reflect without sorrow on those days
(the happiest far of my life) which we spent together, when both
were under the care of my aunt Western. Alas! why are Miss Graveairs
and Miss Giddy no more? You remember, I am sure, when we knew each
other by no other names. Indeed, you gave the latter appellation
with too much cause. I have since experienced how much I deserved
it. You, my Sophia, was always my superior in everything, and I
heartily hope you will be so in your fortune. I shall never forget the
wise and matronly advice you once gave me, when I lamented being
disappointed of a ball, though you could not be then fourteen years
old.-O my Sophy, how blest must have been my situation, when I could
think such a disappointment a misfortune; and when indeed it was the
greatest I had ever known!"
"And yet, my dear Harriet," answered Sophia, "it was then a
serious matter with you. Comfort yourself therefore with thinking,
that whatever you now lament may hereafter appear as trifling and
contemptible as a ball would at this time."
"Alas, my Sophia," replied the other lady, "you yourself will
think otherwise of my present situation; for greatly must that
tender heart be altered, if my misfortunes do not draw many a sigh,
nay, many a tear, from you. The knowledge of this should perhaps deter
me from relating what I am convinced will so much affect you." Here
Mrs. Fitzpatrick stopt, till, at the repeated entreaties of Sophia,
she thus proceeded:
"Though you must have heard much of my marriage; yet, as matters may
probably have been misrepresented, I will set out from the very
commencement of my unfortunate acquaintance with my present husband;
which was at Bath, soon after you left my aunt, and returned home to
your father.
"Among the gay young fellows who were at this season at Bath, Mr.
Fitzpatrick was one. He was handsome, degage, extremely gallant, and
in his dress exceeded most others. In short, my dear, if you was
unluckily to see him now, I could describe him no better than by
telling you he was the very reverse of everything which he is: for
he hath rusticated himself so long, that he is become an absolute wild
Irishman. But to proceed in my story: the qualifications which he then
possessed so well recommended him, that, though the people of
quality at that time lived separate from the rest of the company,
and excluded them from all their parties, Mr. Fitzpatrick found
means to gain admittance. It was perhaps no easy matter to avoid
him; for he required very little or no invitation; and as, being
handsome and genteel, he found it no very difficult matter to
ingratiate himself with the ladies, so, he having frequently drawn his
sword, the men did not care publickly to affront him. Had it not
been for some such reason, I believe he would have been soon
expelled by his own sex; for surely he had no strict title to be
preferred to the English gentry; nor did they seem inclined to show
him any extraordinary favour. They all abused him behind his back,
which might probably proceed from envy; for the women he was well
received, and very particularly distinguished by them.
"My aunt, though no person of quality herself, as she had always
lived about the court, was enrolled in that party; for, by whatever
means you get into the polite circle, when you are once there, it is
sufficient merit for you that you are there. This observation, young
as you was, you could scarce avoid making from my aunt, who was
free, or reserved, with all people, just as they had more or less of
this merit.
"And this merit, I believe, it was, which principally recommended
Mr. Fitzpatrick to her favour. In which he so well succeeded, that
he was always one of her private parties. Nor was he backward in
returning such distinction; for he soon grew so very particular in his
behaviour to her, that the scandal club first began to take notice
of it, and the better-disposed persons made a match between them.
For my own part, I confess, I made no doubt that his designs were
strictly honourable, as the phrase is; that is, to rob a lady of her
fortune by way of marriage. My aunt was, I conceived, neither young
enough nor handsome enough to attract much wicked inclination; but she
had matrimonial charms in great abundance.
"I was the more confirmed in this opinion from the extraordinary
respect which he showed to myself from the first moment of our
acquaintance. This I understood as an attempt to lessen, if
possible, that disinclination which my interest might be supposed to
give me towards the match; and I know not but in some measure it had
that effect; for, as I was well contented with my own fortune, and
of all people the least a slave to interested views, so I could not be
violently the enemy of a man with whose behaviour to me I was
greatly pleased; and the more so, as I was the only object of such
respect; for he behaved at the same time to many women of quality
without any respect at all.
"Agreeable as this was to me, he soon changed it into another kind
of behaviour, which was perhaps more so. He now put on much softness
and tenderness, and languished and sighed abundantly. At times,
indeed, whether from art or nature I will not determine, he gave his
usual loose to gaiety and mirth; but this was always in general
company, and with other women; for even in a country dance, when he
was not my partner, he became grave, and put on the softest look
imaginable the moment he approached me. Indeed he was in all things so
very particular towards me, that I must have been blind not to have
discovered it. And, and, and--" "And you was more pleased still, my
dear Harriet," cries Sophia; "you need not be ashamed," she,
sighing; "for sure there are irresistible charms in tenderness,
which too many men are able to affect." "True," answered her cousin;
"men, who in all other instances want common sense, are very
Machiavels in the art of loving. I wish I did not know an instance.
Well, scandal now began to be as busy with me as it had before been
with my aunt; and some good ladies did not scruple to affirm that
Mr. Fitzpatrick had an intrigue with us both.
"But, what may seem astonishing, my aunt never saw, nor in the least
seemed to suspect, that which was visible enough, I believe, from both
our behaviours. One would indeed think that love quite puts out the
eyes of an old woman. In fact, they so greedily swallow the
addresses which are made to them, that, like an outrageous glutton,
they are not at leisure to observe what passes amongst others at the
same table. This I have observed in more cases than my own; and this
was so strongly verified by my aunt, that, though she often found us
together at her return from the pump, the least chanting word of
his, pretending impatience at her absence, effectually smothered all
suspicion. One artifice succeeded with her to admiration. This was his
treating me like a little child, and never calling me by any other
name in her presence but that of pretty miss. This indeed did him some
disservice with your humble servant; but I soon saw through it,
especially as in her absence he behaved to me, as I have said, in a
different manner. However, if I was not greatly disobliged by a
conduct of which I had discovered the design, I smarted very
severely for it; for my aunt really conceived me to be what her
lover (as she thought him) called me, and treated me in all respects
as a perfect infant. To say the truth, I wonder she had not insisted
on my again wearing leading-strings.
"At last, my lover (for so he was) thought proper, in a most
solemn manner, to disclose a secret which I had known long before.
He now placed all the love which he had pretended to my aunt to my
account. He lamented, in very pathetic terms, the encouragement she
had given him, and made a high merit of the tedious hours in which
he had undergone her conversation.- What shall I tell you, my dear
Sophia?- Then I will confess the truth. I was pleased with my man. I
was pleased with my conquest. To rival my aunt delighted me; to
rival so many other women charmed me. In short, I am afraid I did
not behave as I should do, even upon the very first declaration- I
wish I did not almost give him positive encouragement before we
parted.
