Lord G---- swelled, and reared himself up. His complexion, which was before in a glow, was heightened.

Poor man! thought I.--But why should my tender heart pity obstinate people?--Yet I could not help being dutiful.--Have you dined, my lord?

said I, with a sweet smile, and very courteous.

He stalked to the window, and never a word answered he.

Pray, Lady L----, be so good as to ask my Lord G---- if he has dined?

Was not this very condescending, on such a behaviour?

Lady L---- asked him; and as gently-voiced as if she were asking the same question of her own lord. Lady L---- is a kind-hearted soul, Harriet.

She is my sister.

I have not, madam, to Lady L----, turning rudely from me, and, not very civilly, from her. Ah! thought I, these men! The more they are courted --Wretches! to find their consequence in a woman's meekness--Yet, I could not forbear shewing mine.--Nature, Harriet! Who can resist const.i.tution?

What stiff airs are these! approaching him.--I do a.s.sure you, my lord, I shall not take this behaviour well; and put my hand on his arm.

I was served right. Would you believe it? The man shook off my condescending hand, by raising his elbow scornfully. He really did!

Nay, then!--I left him, and retired to my former seat. I was vexed that it was Sunday: I wanted a little harmony.

Lord and Lady L---- both blamed me, by their looks; and my lady took my hand, and was leading me towards him. I shewed a little reluctance: and, would you have thought it? out of the drawing-room whipt my nimble lord, as if on purpose to avoid being moved by my concession.

I took my place again.

I beg of you, Charlotte, said Lady L----, go to my lord. You have used him ill.

When I think so, I will follow your advice, Lady L----.

And don't you think so, Lady G----? said Lord L----.

What! for taking my own option how I would be dressed to-day?--What! for deferring--That moment in came my bluff lord--Have I not, proceeded I, been forced to dine without him to-day? Did he let me know what account I could give of his absence? Or when he would return?--And see, now, how angry he looks!

He traversed the room--I went on--Did he not shake off my hand, when I laid it, smiling, on his arm? Would he answer me a question, which I kindly put to him, fearing he had not dined, and might be sick for want of eating? Was I not forced to apply to Lady L---- for an answer to my careful question, on his scornfully turning from me in silence?--Might we not, if he had not gone out so abruptly, n.o.body knows where, have made the appearance his heart is so set upon?--But now, indeed, it is too late.

Oons, madam! said he, and he kimboed his arms, and strutted up to me.

Now for a cuff, thought I. I was half afraid of it: but out of the room again capered he.

Lord bless me, said I, what a pa.s.sionate creature is this!

Lord and Lady L---- both turned from me with indignation. But no wonder if one, that they both did. They are a silly pair; and I believe have agreed to keep each other in countenance in all they do.

But Emily affected me. She sat before in one corner of the room, weeping; and just then ran to me, and, wrapping her arms about me, Dear, dear Lady G----, said she, for Heaven's sake, think of what our Miss Byron said; 'Don't jest away your own happiness.' I don't say who is in fault: but, my dear lady, do you condescend. It looks pretty in a woman to condescend. Forgive me; I will run to my lord, and I will beg of him----

Away she ran, without waiting for an answer--and, bringing in the pa.s.sionate wretch, hanging on his arm--You must not, my lord, indeed you must not be so pa.s.sionate. Why, my lord, you frighted me; indeed you did. Such a word I never heard from your lordship's mouth--

Ay, my lord, said I, you give yourself pretty airs! Don't you? and use pretty words; that a child shall be terrified at them! But come, come, ask my pardon, for leaving me to dine without you.

Was not that tender?--Yet out went Lord and Lady L----. To be sure they did right, if they withdrew in hopes these kind words would have been received as reconciliatory ones; and not in displeasure with me, as I am half-afraid they did: for their good-nature (worthy souls!) does sometimes lead them into misapprehensions. I kindly laid my hand on his arm again.--He was ungracious.--Nay, my lord, don't once more reject me with disdain--If you do--I then smiled most courteously. Carry not your absurdities, my lord, too far: and I took his hand:--[There, Harriet, was condescension!]--I protest, sir, if you give yourself any more of these airs, you will not find me so condescending. Come, come, tell me you are sorry, and I will forgive you.

Sorry! madam; sorry!--I am indeed sorry, for your provoking airs!

Why that's not ill said--But kimboed arms, my lord! are you not sorry for such an air? And Oons! are you not sorry for such a word? and for such looks too? and for quarreling with your dinner?--I protest, my lord, you make one of us look like a child who flings away his bread and b.u.t.ter because it has not gla.s.s windows upon it--

Not for one moment forbear, madam!--

Pr'ythee, pr'ythee--[I profess I had like to have said honest friend]--No more of these airs; and, I tell you, I will forgive you.

But, madam, I cannot, I will not--

Hush, hush; no more in that strain, and so loud, as if we had lost each other in a wood--If you will let us be friends, say so--In an instant--If not, I am gone--gone this moment--casting off from him, as I may say, intending to mount up stairs.

Angel, or demon, shall I call you? said he.--Yet I receive your hand, as offered. But, for G.o.d's sake, madam, let us be happy! And he kissed my hand, but not so cordially as it became him to do; and in came Lord and Lady L---- with countenances a little ungracious.

I took my seat next my own man, with an air of officiousness, hoping to oblige him by it; and he was obliged: and another day, not yet quite agreed upon, this parade is to be made.

And thus began, proceeded, and ended, this doughty quarrel. And who knows, but before the day is absolutely resolved upon, we may have half a score more? Four, five, six days, as it may happen, is a great s.p.a.ce of time for people to agree, who are so much together; and one of whom is playful, and the other will not be played with. But these kimbo and oons airs, Harriet, stick a little in my stomach; and the man seems not to be quite come to neither. He is sullen and gloomy, and don't prate away as he used to do, when we have made up before.

But I will sing him a song to-morrow: I will please the honest man, if I can. But he really should not have had for a wife a woman of so sweet a temper as your

CHARLOTTE G----.

LETTER XLII

LADY G----, TO MISS BYRON MONDAY, MAY 8.

My lord and I have had another little--Tiff, shall I call it? It came not up to a quarrel. Married people would have enough to do, if they were to trouble their friends every time they misunderstood one another.

And now a word or two of other people: not always scribbling of ourselves.

We have just heard, that our cousin Everard has added another fool of our s.e.x to the number of the weak ones who disgrace it: A sorry fellow! He has been seen with her, by one whom he would not know, at Cuper's Gardens; dressed like a sea-officer, and skulking like a thief into the privatest walks of the place. When he is tired of the poor wretch, he will want to accommodate with us by promises of penitence and reformation, as once or twice before. Rakes are not only odious, but they are despicable fellows. You will the more clearly see this, when I a.s.sure you, from those who know, that this silly creature our cousin is looked upon, among his brother libertines, and smarts, as a man of first consideration!

He has also been seen, in a gayer habit, at a certain gaming-table, near Covent Garden; where he did not content himself with being an idle spectator. Colonel Winwood, our informant, shook his head, but made no other answer, to some of our inquiries. May he suffer! say I.--A sorry fellow!

Preparations are going on all so-fast at Windsor. We are all invited.

G.o.d grant that Miss Mansfield may be as happy a Lady W----, as we all conclude she will be! But I never was fond of matches between sober young women, and battered old rakes. Much good may do the adventurers, drawn in by gewgaw and t.i.tle!--Poor things!--But convenience, when that's the motive, whatever foolish girls think, will hold out its comforts, while a gratified love quickly evaporates.

Beauchamp, who is acquainted with the Mansfields, is intrusted by my brother, in his absence, with the management of the law-affairs. He hopes, he says, to give a good account of them. The base steward of the uncle Calvert, who lived as a husband with the woman who had been forced upon his superannuated master in a doting fit, has been brought, by the death of one of the children born in Mr. Calvert's life-time, and by the precarious health of the posthumous one, to make overtures of accommodation. A new hearing of the cause between them and the Keelings, is granted; and great things are expected from it in their favour, from some new lights thrown in upon that suit. The Keelings are frightened out of their wits, it seems; and are applying to Sir John Lambton, a disinterested neighbour, to offer himself as a mediator between them.

The Mansfields will so soon be related to us, that I make no apology for interesting you in their affairs.

Be sure you chide me for my whimsical behaviour to Lord G----. I know you will. But don't blame my heart: my head only is wrong.

A little more from fresh informations of this sorry varlet Everard. I wished him to suffer; but I wished him not to be so very great a sufferer as it seems he is. Sharpers have bit his head off, quite close to his shoulders: they have not left it him to carry under his arm, as the honest patron of France did his. They lend it him, however, now and then, to repent with, and curse himself. The creature he attended to Cuper's Gardens, instead of a country innocent, as he expected her to be, comes out to be a cast mistress, experienced in all the arts of such, and acting under the secret influences of a man of quality; who, wanting to get rid of her, supports her in a prosecution commenced against him (poor devil!) for performance of covenants. He was extremely mortified, on finding my brother gone abroad: he intends to apply to him for his pity and help. Sorry fellow! He boasted to us, on our expectation of our brother's arrival from abroad, that he would enter his cousin Charles into the ways of the town. Now he wants to avail himself against the practices of the sons of that town by his cousin's character and consequence.