"Oh, then, you are setting down all these Irish folks."

"No, indeed; I don't think them worth the trouble."

"Oh, but I am sure you are; only I interrupted you."

I went on no further with the argument, and Miss Thrale proposed our walking out to meet her mother. We all agreed and Mr. Crutchley would not be satisfied without walking near me, though I really had no patience to talk with him, and wished him at Jericho.

"What's the matter?" said he; "have you had a quarrel?"

"_No_."

"Are you affronted?"

Not a word. Then again he called to Miss Thrale--

"Why, Queeny--why, she's quite in a rage! What have you done to her?"

I still sulked on, vexed to be teased; but, though with a gaiety that showed he had no suspicion of the cause, he grew more and more urgent, trying every means to make me tell him what was the matter, till at last, much provoked, I said--

"I must be strangely in want of a confidant, indeed, to take you for one!"

"Why, what an insolent speech!" cried he, half serious and half laughing, but casting up his eyes and hands with astonishment. He then let me be quiet some time,--but in a few minutes renewed his inquiries, with added eagerness, begging me to tell him if n.o.body else.

A likely matter! thought I; nor did I scruple to tell him, when forced to answer, that no one had such little chance of success in such a request.

"Why so?" cried he; "for I am the best person in the world to trust with a secret, as I always forget it."

He continued working at me till we joined Mrs. Thrale and the attorney-general. And then Miss Thrale, stimulated by him, came to inquire if I had really taken anything amiss of her. "No," I a.s.sured her.

"Is it of me, then?" cried Mr. Crutchley, as if sure I should say no; but I made no other answer than to desire him to desist questioning me....

He then grew quite violent, and at last went on with his questions till, by being quite silent, he could no longer doubt who it was. He seemed then wholly amazed, and entreated to know what he had done; but I tried only to avoid him.

Soon after the attorney-general took his leave, during which ceremony Mr. Crutchley, coming behind me, exclaimed,--

"Who'd think of this creature's having any venom in her."

"Oh, yes," answered I, "when she's provoked."

"But have I provoked you?"

Again I got off. Taking Miss Thrale by the arm, we hurried away, leaving him with Mrs. Thrale and Miss Owen.

He was presently, however, with us again; and when he came to my side and found me really trying to talk of other matters with Miss Thrale, and avoid him, he called out,

"Upon my life, this is too bad! Do tell me, Miss Burney, what is the matter? If you won't, I protest I'll call Mrs. Thrale, and make her work at you herself."

"I a.s.sure you," answered I, "that it will be to no purpose for I must offend myself by telling it, and therefore I shall mention it to n.o.body."

"But what in the world have I done?"

"Nothing; you have done nothing."

"What have I said, then? Only let me beg your pardon, only let me know what it is, that I may beg your pardon."

I then took up the teasing myself, and quite insisted upon his leaving us, and joining Mrs. Thrale. He begged me to tell Miss Thrale, and let her mediate, and entreated her to be his agent; which, in order to get rid of him, she promised; and he then slackened his pace, though very reluctantly, while we quickened ours. He was, however, which I very little expected, too uneasy to stay long away; and when we had walked on quite out of hearing of Mrs. Thrale and Miss Owen, he suddenly galloped after us.

"How odd it is of you," said Miss Thrale, "to come and intrude yourself in this manner upon anybody that tries so to avoid you!"

"Have you done anything for me?" cried he. "I don't believe you have said a word."

"Not I, truly!" answered she; "if I can keep my own self, out of sc.r.a.pes, it's all I can pretend to."

"Well, but do tell me, Miss Burney,--pray tell me! indeed, this is quite too bad; I sha'n't have a wink of sleep all night! If I have offended you, I am very sorry indeed; but I am sure I did not mean--"

"No, sir!" interrupted I, "I don't suppose you did mean to offend me, nor do I know why you should. I expect from you neither good nor ill,--civility I think myself ent.i.tled to, and that is all I have any desire for."

"Good heaven!" exclaimed he. "Tell me, however, but what it is, and if I have said any thing unguardedly, I am extremely sorry, and I most sincerely beg your pardon. If you would tell me, I am sure I could explain it off, because I am sure it has been done undesignedly."

"No, it does not admit of any explanation; so pray don't mention it any more."

"Only tell me what part of the day it was."

Whether this unconsciousness was real, or only to draw me in so that he might come to the point, and make his apology with greater ease, I know not; but I a.s.sured him it was in vain he asked, and again desired him to puzzle himself with no further recollections.

"Oh," cried he, "but I shall think of every thing I have ever said to you for this half year. I am sure, whatever it was, it must have been unmeant and unguarded."

"That, Sir, I never doubted; and probably you thought me hard enough to hear any thing without minding it."

"Good heaven, Miss Burney! why, there is n.o.body I would not sooner offend,--n.o.body in the world! Queeny knows it. If Queeny would speak, she could tell you so. Is it not true, Miss Thrale?"

"I shall say nothing about it; if I can keep my own neck out of the collar, it's enough for me."

"But won't it plead something for me that you are sure, and must be sure, it was by blunder, and not design?... I beg you will think no more of it. I--I believe I know what it is; and, indeed, I was far from meaning to give you the smallest offence, and I most earnestly beg your pardon. There is nothing I would not do to a.s.sure you how sorry I am.

But I hope it will be all over by the time the candles come. I shall look to see, and I hope--I beg--you will have the same countenance again."

I now felt really appeased, and so I told him.

We then talked of other matters till we reached home, though it was not without difficulty I could even yet keep him quiet. I see that Mr.

Crutchley, though of a cold and proud disposition, is generous, amiable, and delicate, and, when not touched upon the tender string of gallantry, concerning which he piques himself upon invariable hardness and immoveability, his sentiments are not merely just, but refined.

TOO MUCH OF MANY THINGS.