Chapter iii.

A further explanation of the foregoing design.

Though the reader may have long since concluded Lady Bellaston to be a

member (and no inconsiderable one) of the great world; she was in

reality a very considerable member of the little world; by which

appellation was distinguished a very worthy and honourable society

which not long since flourished in this kingdom.

Among other good principles upon which this society was founded, there

was one very remarkable; for, as it was a rule of an honourable club

of heroes, who assembled at the close of the late war, that all the

members should every day fight once at least; so 'twas in this, that

every member should, within the twenty-four hours, tell at least one

merry fib, which was to be propagated by all the brethren and

sisterhood.

Many idle stories were told about this society, which from a certain

quality may be, perhaps not unjustly, supposed to have come from the

society themselves. As, that the devil was the president; and that he

sat in person in an elbow-chair at the upper end of the table; but,

upon very strict enquiry, I find there is not the least truth in any

of those tales, and that the assembly consisted in reality of a set of

very good sort of people, and the fibs which they propagated were of a

harmless kind, and tended only to produce mirth and good humour.

Edwards was likewise a member of this comical society. To him

therefore Lady Bellaston applied as a proper instrument for her

purpose, and furnished him with a fib, which he was to vent whenever

the lady gave him her cue; and this was not to be till the evening,

when all the company but Lord Fellamar and himself were gone, and

while they were engaged in a rubber at whist.

To this time then, which was between seven and eight in the evening,

we will convey our reader; when Lady Bellaston, Lord Fellamar, Miss

Western, and Tom, being engaged at whist, and in the last game of

their rubbers, Tom received his cue from Lady Bellaston, which was, “I

protest, Tom, you are grown intolerable lately; you used to tell us

all the news of the town, and now you know no more of the world than

if you lived out of it.”

Mr Edwards then began as follows: “The fault is not mine, madam: it

lies in the dulness of the age, that doth nothing worth talking

of.----O la! though now I think on't there hath a terrible accident

befallen poor Colonel Wilcox.----Poor Ned.----You know him, my lord,

everybody knows him; faith! I am very much concerned for him.”

“What is it, pray?” says Lady Bellaston.

“Why, he hath killed a man this morning in a duel, that's all.”

His lordship, who was not in the secret, asked gravely, whom he had

killed? To which Edwards answered, “A young fellow we none of us know;

a Somersetshire lad just came to town, one Jones his name is; a near

relation of one Mr Allworthy, of whom your lordship I believe hath

heard. I saw the lad lie dead in a coffee-house.--Upon my soul, he is

one of the finest corpses I ever saw in my life!”

Sophia, who had just began to deal as Tom had mentioned that a man was

killed, stopt her hand, and listened with attention (for all stories

of that kind affected her), but no sooner had he arrived at the latter

part of the story than she began to deal again; and having dealt three

cards to one, and seven to another, and ten to a third, at last dropt

the rest from her hand, and fell back in her chair.

The company behaved as usually on these occasions. The usual

disturbance ensued, the usual assistance was summoned, and Sophia at

last, as it is usual, returned again to life, and was soon after, at

her earnest desire, led to her own apartment; where, at my lord's

request, Lady Bellaston acquainted her with the truth, attempted to

carry it off as a jest of her own, and comforted her with repeated

assurances, that neither his lordship nor Tom, though she had taught

him the story, were in the true secret of the affair.

There was no farther evidence necessary to convince Lord Fellamar how

justly the case had been represented to him by Lady Bellaston; and

now, at her return into the room, a scheme was laid between these two

noble persons, which, though it appeared in no very heinous light to

his lordship (as he faithfully promised, and faithfully resolved too,

to make the lady all the subsequent amends in his power by marriage),

yet many of our readers, we doubt not, will see with just detestation.

The next evening at seven was appointed for the fatal purpose, when

Lady Bellaston undertook that Sophia should be alone, and his lordship

should be introduced to her. The whole family were to be regulated for

the purpose, most of the servants despatched out of the house; and for

Mrs Honour, who, to prevent suspicion, was to be left with her

mistress till his lordship's arrival, Lady Bellaston herself was to

engage her in an apartment as distant as possible from the scene of

the intended mischief, and out of the hearing of Sophia.

Matters being thus agreed on, his lordship took his leave, and her

ladyship retired to rest, highly pleased with a project, of which she

had no reason to doubt the success, and which promised so effectually

to remove Sophia from being any further obstruction to her amour with

Jones, by a means of which she should never appear to be guilty, even

if the fact appeared to the world; but this she made no doubt of

preventing by huddling up a marriage, to which she thought the

ravished Sophia would easily be brought to consent, and at which all

the rest of her family would rejoice.

But affairs were not in so quiet a situation in the bosom of the other

conspirator; his mind was tost in all the distracting anxiety so nobly

described by Shakespear--

“Between the acting of a dreadful thing,

And the first motion, all the interim is

Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream;

The genius and the mortal instruments

Are then in council; and the state of man,

Like to a little kingdom, suffers then

The nature of an insurrection.”----

Though the violence of his passion had made him eagerly embrace the

first hint of this design, especially as it came from a relation of

the lady, yet when that friend to reflection, a pillow, had placed the

action itself in all its natural black colours before his eyes, with

all the consequences which must, and those which might probably attend

it, his resolution began to abate, or rather indeed to go over to the

other side; and after a long conflict, which lasted a whole night,

between honour and appetite, the former at length prevailed, and he

determined to wait on Lady Bellaston, and to relinquish the design.

Lady Bellaston was in bed, though very late in the morning, and Sophia

sitting by her bed-side, when the servant acquainted her that Lord

Fellamar was below in the parlour; upon which her ladyship desired him

to stay, and that she would see him presently; but the servant was no

sooner departed than poor Sophia began to intreat her cousin not to

encourage the visits of that odious lord (so she called him, though a

little unjustly) upon her account. “I see his design,” said she; “for

he made downright love to me yesterday morning; but as I am resolved

never to admit it, I beg your ladyship not to leave us alone together

any more, and to order the servants that, if he enquires for me, I may

be always denied to him.”

“La! child,” says Lady Bellaston, “you country girls have nothing but

sweethearts in your head; you fancy every man who is civil to you is

making love. He is one of the most gallant young fellows about town,

and I am convinced means no more than a little gallantry. Make love to

you indeed! I wish with all my heart he would, and you must be an

arrant mad woman to refuse him.”

“But as I shall certainly be that mad woman,” cries Sophia, “I hope

his visits shall not be intruded upon me.”

“O child!” said Lady Bellaston, “you need not be so fearful; if you

resolve to run away with that Jones, I know no person who can hinder

you.”

“Upon my honour, madam,” cries Sophia, “your ladyship injures me. I

will never run away with any man; nor will I ever marry contrary to my

father's inclinations.”

“Well, Miss Western,” said the lady, “if you are not in a humour to

see company this morning, you may retire to your own apartment; for I

am not frightened at his lordship, and must send for him up into my

dressing-room.”

Sophia thanked her ladyship, and withdrew; and presently afterwards

Fellamar was admitted upstairs.