University of Virginia Library

8. CHAP. VIII.
FEMALE HEROISM.

Sir George had previously given his valet Le Brun
an order to make inquiries obliquely concerning the
fair recluse, whom he had seen at the window in the
garden, and now retired with the eager expectation of
hearing something of her.

“Well, Le Brun,” said he, “what news? Can you
learn whether the fair spirit of the garden haunts it continually,
or only sometimes?”

“Oh, Monsieur,” said Le Brun, “I did ask Mademoiselle
Harley. Oh! she be one ver pret voman;
she never refuse me any thing. She be von jolie petite
fille.”

“Good Monsieur,” said Sir George, “defer the
account of your own success till another opportunity,
and inform me of what you have heard.”

“Dat be vat I vas intend, my Lor. Mademoiselle
Harley tell me dat my Lady, your moder, keep von
ver charmante demoisell, to play, to read, to sing to
her ven she be alone; but ven your onor, or any company,
be com, my Lady do shut her up.”

“And who does Harley say she is?”

“Oh! ma soi; she be de daughter of a pauvre old
man, who vas one soldier. He live in Lincolnshire;
de call her Mademoiselle Rebecca—.”

“And does she constantly occupy those apartments
in the south wing?”

“Ouè, Monsieur, ouè, and she valk every morning
in de garden by de time de sun be up.”

This was enough for Sir George. He dismissed Le
Brun, and determined to rise by times himself, and
join Rebecca in the garden.

In the mean time Rebecca's thoughts were fully

employed in reflecting on the unexpected incident
which had thrown her in the way of the very man
whom it was her interest to wish to avoid. “It was
unfortunate,” said she, “very unfortunate, that I
should have opened the window at that time; if Lady
Mary was to know I had seen and conversed with her
son, it would make her very unhappy, and yet how
shall I ever be able to face her after having, though involuntarily,
transgressed the only restriction she thought
fit to lay upon me? Will it not be best to watch the
moment when she retires to her apartment, to go to her,
candidly confess the accidental rencounter, and endeavour
to deprecate the anger I must otherwise expect to
encounter? Yes, it will certainly be right; my kind
generous Lady Mary shall never have occasion to accuse
me of want of sincerity.”

When she had formed this resolution, her thoughts
again reverted to the elegant accomplished manner, and
fine person of Sir George, again in idea she recalled
every sentence he had uttered, and innocently indulged
the fascinating reflexion unsuspecting of the consequence.

The clock had just struck eleven when Rebecca heard
the footstep of Lady Mary on the stairs. She heard
her enter her dressing room, and then, with palpitating
heart, presented herself at the door of the apartment,
and, by a gentle tap, demanded admittance.

Mrs. Harley opened the door; pale, trembling, her
eyes cast on the ground, the agitated Rebecca entered,
and courtesying, in a manner in which the soul seemed
to bow more than the body, attempted an apology for
the untimely intrusion.

“Come in, my love,” said Lady Mary, then looking
at her face she continued, “Are you not well, Rebecca,
or has any thing alarmed you?”

Your goodness, Madam, overpowers me,” said Rebecca
seating herself; “my mind is not quite at case,
and, if you have a few moments to spare, I should be
glad to communicate something to you, without any
witness to our conversation.”

“Harley,” said her ladyship, “I shall not go to hed

just yet, and will ring when I want you. (Harley retired)
“And now, my dear, what is this mighty secret?”
taking Rebecca's hand.

“I am come my dearest Lady,” said she, rising “to
inform you, that I have, though undesignedly, broken
your injunctions, and incurred your displeasure: let me,
therefore Madam, expiate my offence, by being banished
from this delightful place, and from your truly
valuable society. Send me back, Madam, to my humble
home; but, oh! I conjure you, do not deprive me
of your friendship and good opinion, which I value infinitely
more than any other earthly good.”

“You surprise me my dear child! I am at a loss to
comprehend your meaning. From the whole tenor of
your conduct, since you have been here, I am convinced,
that, if you have offended me, the fault was involuntary,
indeed. Come, come, do not look so grave:
I suppose this amazing sault, when revealed, will be
discovered a very trifle. You have let my favourite canary
out of its cage, or you have broke one of the large
India jars.”

“Ah! my dear Lady, worse, infinitely worse, I
have seen Sir George. Now, pray do not look angry;
indeed, he is the first and only person I have seen since
my arrival here; nor did I seek the interview.”

“Do not alarm yourself thus, my love,” said Lady
Mary, obliging her to sit down again. “Come, compose
your spirits, and tell me sincerely how it happened,
what passed between you, and what you think of my
son?”

“Oh! I think him,” said Rebecca, the most engaging
young man I ever saw; he has such a manly
look, yet such a soft air and voice.”

“Indeed!” said her Ladyship, gravely, “and pray
what might he say to you?”

“Ah! Madam, it would be vanity in me to repeat
all he said, he spoke so many fine things.”

“It is well Rebecca, I see you still retain that candour
and sincerity for which I ever loved you. I am
fully satisfied that this interview was not sought on your
side, nor can I suppose it was on his. You seem to entertain

a very favourable idea of Sir George, and I
make no doubt but he does the same of you; but do
not from this indulge any vain hopes that you can ever
be any thing to each other. Young men of a certain
rank in life, do not frequently match themselves with
their inferiors, yet they will leave no art unessayed to
awaken sensibility in the heart of every woman whom
they affect to admire. Will you make me one promise,
Rebecca, and, without reserve, ever remember to keep
it inviolate.”

“Dear Madam, do you, can you, doubt me?
Speak your commands; I am sure they will not be severe,
and when I disobey you, from that moment may
peace and joy be strangers to my bosom.”

“Then promise me, my dear, that you will never,
directly, nor indirectly, listen to any overtures of love
which Sir George may make, or give him the least encouragement;
and while you keep the promise sacred,
may every earthly happiness surround you; and should
you ever feel inclined to break it, reflect it is the only
thing which you can do to wound the peace of a woman
who loves you as her own child.”

“Then hear me, Madam,” said Rebecca, “while
I solemnly protest, that never, while I retain my senses,
will I listen to any profession of love whatever from your
son. The grateful affection I bear towards your Ladyship
will prompt me to keep this vow inviolable, had
I no other motive; but, my dear Lady, I have two
powerful reasons for never infringing it. The first, I
trust you will believe, is an invincible repugnance inherent
in my bosom to every thing derogatory to the
dignity and honour of my sex, and which will urge me
to treat with scorn every overture that tended to the
injury of either:—And for the other, pardon me, Madam,
I feel my inferiority, nay, feel it so powerfully,
that I will never meanly creep into a family who would
think themselves dishonoured by the alliance.”

“My dear good girl,” said Lady Mary, embracing
her, “I honour you for this spirited reply. You
would not dishonour any family; but I never was a
friend to unequal matches; they are seldom productive

of much felicity; besides, my son is the destined husband
of another.”

Rebecca heard her in silence, sighed, and was preparing
to leave the apartment. “Stay, my love,”
said Lady Mary, “though you have charmed me by
the frankness and candour of your behaviour, I am not
satisfied, but that George will attempt to see you again;
shall I request my dear girl will keep intirely in her
apartment to-morrow, and avoid going to the windows,
and in the evening a chaise shall be ordered to the back
garden gate. My own man James shall attend you,
and you may proceed one stage on your journey towards
Lincolnshire that night. James will take particular
care of you, and see you safe at your father's house,
where you can pay them a short visit till I join you,
which will be in about three weeks time.” She then
put a heavy purse into her hand, bade her consider it
as her own, and then wished her a good night: but
calling her back, as she was about to leave the room,
she desired her to be careful what she said to Harley,
and in particular to avoid mentioning her intended
journey.

“Is it pride?” said Rebecca, as she retired to rest:
“Or is it a tender wish for my felicity, that actuates
Lady Mary? Surely it is the latter. Her liberality,
her condescending affection, all tend to convince me
it is my happiness alone she is studious to preserve:
and never shall it be said that Rebecca Littleton, like
the ungrateful viper, stung the friendly bosom that
warmed her into life; for, surely, the cultivation of
our mental faculties, the enlargement of our ideas, is
a second, nay a better life than what we receive from
nature, and this life I have received from my revered
benefactress. What delightful sources of pleasurable
amusement has she opened to my view! How inestimable
the benefits I have received from her hand! Then
her thoughts reverting to Sir George, she continued,
“Surely the son of such a mother must be all that is
good and amiable, and it is not infringing my vow to
love him as a brother. Ah! how happy will be the
partner he shall choose, nay, that he has chosen; for

did not his mother say his destiny was fixed? May their
felicity be as lasting as their lives! May every earthly
blessing crown them! May heaven shower down its
bounties on their heads, that their joys may render
completely happy the heart of my kind, my generous
Lady Mary!”

Then lifting up her soul, in its nightly address, to
the Throne of Grace, she blended the name of Sir
George with that of his mother, and sunk into that
peaceful kind of slumber, which only innocence, like
her's, can enjoy.