November 15.—
My brother is arrived
in town sooner than we expected, and
came this evening to pay us a visit.
My altered and dejected looks, I believe,
shocked him; but George wants
tenderness, or at least a capacity of shewing
it. After a recapitulation of my
story, he asked me, 'Could I be so mean-spirited a creature as ever to think of
living with Arnold again, even though
he should be inclined to desire it?' I
told him, he considered the matter in a
wrong light; and that he ought to reflect
on my reputation, and the future welfare
of my two poor little girls, who would
be material sufferers, from the want of my
care and attention, as they grew up; not
to mention the disadvantages they would
enter into life with, by my continuing
under an aspersion which might in time
become very public, and perhaps be believed
too, as I made no doubt but that
Mrs. Gerrarde would take pains to propagate
it wherever she went. My mother
added, Mr. Arnold too might be saved
from perdition, if he could be so far convinced
of his wife's innocence, as to be
reconciled to her, and live with her again.
And pray, said Sir George, how is this
to be done, if that damned woman has
put it into his head, that Faulkland and
you are fond of one another? Do you
imagine that he will believe what
you say?
what your brother, or your mother, or
even Faulkland himself, could say to the
contrary? I own to you very fairly, that
I so much despise the man, that, unless
you will give me leave to talk to him my
own way, I will have nothing to say to
him at all. Would you have me
sue to
him for a reconciliation, and try to persuade
him out of the belief of an imaginary
injury, which probably he was glad
to make a handle of to get rid of you?
No, Sidney; you may be as tame as you
please yourself, but it does not become
your brother to be so. When I go to
him, I must insist upon not having rules
prescribed to me: your delicacy, in regard
to Faulkland's asserting your innocence,
I have nothing to say against; but there
can be no objection to your brother's vindicating
the honour of his family. I saw
Sir George's resentment was rouzed to
the highest pitch; his eyes sparkled with
indignation, and his whole frame seemed
agitated.
Dear brother, said I, I conjure you
(and I fell upon my knees and clasped both
my arms round his) do not add to my
affliction, by involving yourself and my
husband in a fatal quarrel. What difference
would it make to me, if Mr. Arnold
should fall, whether it is by your
hand or Mr. Faulkland's? The loss would
be the same; the misfortune, the publication
of my disgrace, the shame. Your
husband, said he, breaking from me,
though a little softened, would have as
good a chance as I, if it came to the
hazard; or perhaps he might condescend
to take you again (if you will have it so)
without coming to these extremities, if I
am suffered to argue properly with him.—
I will not consent to your seeing him at
all, said I, eagerly. The cause is now
my own, he answered, coolly; but I will
do nothing to aggravate your distress. I
did not like the manner in which he spoke.
My mother, who till now had been silent,
caught the alarm. Let me intreat you,
son, said she, to drop the thoughts of any
violent methods with Mr. Arnold. If
you value your sister's peace, or have
any regard to the obedience you owe me,
I insist on it, that you neither see him nor
write to him, without our knowlege and
consent; and if you do not promise me
this, I renounce all ties of kindred or affection
to you: your mother has as just a
sense of the honour of her family as you can
have; but it is not on so hot a head, and
so weak an arm, that she depends to see
it justified to the world. Sir George, who
was nettled at my mother's spirited rebuke,
made her a low bow. No doubt
of it, madam, said he, there will be a
miracle wrought in my sister's favour. I
would have you let her try the experiment
of the ordeal: I dare say she would come
off victorious, and then Mr. Arnold will
do you the favour to take her home again.
I wish, said my mother, gravely, that there
was a possibility of bringing my dear
child's innocence to such a proof; I would
not hesitate a minute to put it to the
trial: but since there is no such a thing
now a days, I will wait till God, in his
own righteousness, shall judge her cause,
and clear her to the world. Therefore,
son, I insist upon your promise before
you leave me.
I give you my word, madam, answered
Sir George, I will not attempt to hold
any conference with Mr. Arnold without
your knowledge. Will that satisfy you?
It does, answered my mother; for I
think I can rely upon your word. Sir
George left us not very well satisfied
with each other; his pride and resentment
piqued to the highest. I cannot censure
him for it here: he has cause; but the
case is a nice and difficult one. The gratification
of a private spleen ought not to
enter into the measures he should pursue.
Glad I am that my mother's properly-exerted resolution has tamed him a little.
Though George sometimes fails in the
respect which he owes her, yet I never
knew him wilfully to disobey her commands,
or oppose her inclinations. 'Tis
well there is any hold on a disposition so
ungentle and self-willed as his.
