Chapter iv.

By which it will appear how dangerous an advocate a lady is when she

applies her eloquence to an ill purpose.

When Lady Bellaston heard the young lord's scruples, she treated them

with the same disdain with which one of those sages of the law, called

Newgate solicitors, treats the qualms of conscience in a young

witness. “My dear lord,” said she, “you certainly want a cordial. I

must send to Lady Edgely for one of her best drams. Fie upon it! have

more resolution. Are you frightened by the word rape? Or are you

apprehensive----? Well! if the story of Helen was modern, I should

think it unnatural. I mean the behaviour of Paris, not the fondness of

the lady; for all women love a man of spirit. There is another story

of the Sabine ladies--and that too, I thank heaven, is very antient.

Your lordship, perhaps, will admire my reading; but I think Mr Hook

tells us, they made tolerable good wives afterwards. I fancy few of my

married acquaintance were ravished by their husbands.” “Nay, dear Lady

Bellaston,” cried he, “don't ridicule me in this manner.” “Why, my

good lord,” answered she, “do you think any woman in England would not

laugh at you in her heart, whatever prudery she might wear in her

countenance?----You force me to use a strange kind of language, and to

betray my sex most abominably; but I am contented with knowing my

intentions are good, and that I am endeavouring to serve my cousin;

for I think you will make her a husband notwithstanding this; or, upon

my soul, I would not even persuade her to fling herself away upon an

empty title. She should not upbraid me hereafter with having lost a

man of spirit; for that his enemies allow this poor young fellow to

be.”

Let those who have had the satisfaction of hearing reflections of this

kind from a wife or a mistress, declare whether they are at all

sweetened by coming from a female tongue. Certain it is, they sunk

deeper into his lordship than anything which Demosthenes or Cicero

could have said on the occasion.

Lady Bellaston, perceiving she had fired the young lord's pride, began

now, like a true orator, to rouse other passions to its assistance.

“My lord,” says she, in a graver voice, “you will be pleased to

remember, you mentioned this matter to me first; for I would not

appear to you in the light of one who is endeavouring to put off my

cousin upon you. Fourscore thousand pounds do not stand in need of an

advocate to recommend them.” “Nor doth Miss Western,” said he,

“require any recommendation from her fortune; for, in my opinion, no

woman ever had half her charms.” “Yes, yes, my lord,” replied the

lady, looking in the glass, “there have been women with more than half

her charms, I assure you; not that I need lessen her on that account:

she is a most delicious girl, that's certain; and within these few

hours she will be in the arms of one, who surely doth not deserve her,

though I will give him his due, I believe he is truly a man of

spirit.”

“I hope so, madam,” said my lord; “though I must own he doth not

deserve her; for, unless heaven or your ladyship disappoint me, she

shall within that time be in mine.”

“Well spoken, my lord,” answered the lady; “I promise you no

disappointment shall happen from my side; and within this week I am

convinced I shall call your lordship my cousin in public.”

The remainder of this scene consisted entirely of raptures, excuses,

and compliments, very pleasant to have heard from the parties; but

rather dull when related at second hand. Here, therefore, we shall put

an end to this dialogue, and hasten to the fatal hour when everything

was prepared for the destruction of poor Sophia.

But this being the most tragical matter in our whole history, we shall

treat it in a chapter by itself.