The Sylph Part 13

"Why Lord Biddulph promised to see you home. I saw him afterwards; and he told me, he left you at your own house."

"Lord Biddulph!" said I, with the most scornful air; "and did he tell you likewise of the insolence of his behaviour? Perhaps he promised you too, that he would insult me in my own house."

"Hey-day, Julia! what's in the wind now? Lord Biddulph insult you! pray let me into the whole of this affair?" I then related the particulars of his impudent conduct, and what I conceived his design to be, together with the repulse I had given him.

Sir William seemed extremely _chagrined_; and said, he should talk in a serious manner on the occasion to Lord Biddulph; and, if his answers were not satisfactory, he should lie under the necessity of calling him to account in the field. Terrified lest death should be the consequence of a quarrel between this infamous Lord and my husband, I conjured Sir William not to take any notice of the affair, any otherwise than to give up his acquaintance; a circ.u.mstance much wished for by me, as I have great reason to believe, Sir William's pa.s.sion for play was excited by his intimacy with him; and, perhaps, may have led him to all the enormities he has too readily, and too rapidly, plunged himself into. He made no scruple to a.s.sure me, that he should find no difficulty in relinquishing the acquaintance; and joined with me, that a silent contempt would be the most cutting reproof to a man of his cast. On my part, I am resolved my doors shall never grant him access again; and, if Sir William should entirely break with him (which, after this atrocious behaviour, I think he must), I may be very happy that I have been the instrument, since I have had such an escape.

But still, Louisa, the innuendo of Lord Biddulph disturbs my peace. How shall I quiet my apprehensions? Does he dare scrutinize my conduct, and harbour suspicions of my predilection for a certain unfortunate? Base as is his soul, he cannot entertain an idea of the purity of a virtuous attachment! Ah! that speech of his has sunk deep in my memory; no time will efface it. When I have been struggling too--yes, Louisa, when I have been combating this fatal--But what am I doing? Why do I use these interdicted expressions? I have done. Alas! what is become of my boasting? If I cannot prescribe rules to a pen, which I can, in one moment, throw into the fire; how shall I restrain the secret murmurings of my mind, whose thoughts I can with difficulty silence, or even control? Adieu! your's, more than her own,

JULIA STANLEY.

LETTER x.x.xVI.

TO Miss GRENVILLE.

Alas! Louisa, fresh difficulties arise every day; and every day I find an exertion of my spirits more necessary, and myself less able to exert them. Sir William told me this morning, that he had lost frequent sums to Lord Biddulph (it wounds my soul to write his detested name); and since it was prudent to give up the acquaintance, it became highly inc.u.mbent on him to discharge these play-debts, for which purpose he must have recourse to me, and apprehended he should find no difficulty, as I had expressed my wish of his breaking immediately with his lordship. This was only the prelude to a proposal of my resignation of my marriage articles. My ready compliance with his former demands emboldened him to be urgent with me on this occasion. At first, I made some scruples, alledging the necessity there was of keeping something by us for a future day, as I had too much reason to apprehend, that what I could call my own would be all we should have to support us. This remonstrance of mine, however just, threw Sir William into a rage; he paced about the room like a madman; swore that his difficulties proceeded from my d.a.m.ned prudery; and that I should extricate him, or abide by the consequences. In short, Louisa, he appeared in a light entirely new to me; I was almost petrified with terror, and absolutely thought once he would beat me, for he came up to me with such fierce looks, and seized me by the arm, which he actually bruised with his grasp, and bade me, at my peril, refuse to surrender the writings to him. After giving me a violent shake, he pushed me from him with such force that I fell down, unable to support myself, from the trembling with which my whole frame was possessed.

"Don't think to practise any of the cursed arts of your s.e.x upon me; don't pretend to throw yourself into fits."

"I scorn your imputation, Sir William," said I, half fainting and breathless, "nor shall I make any resistance or opposition to your leaving me a beggar. I have now reason to believe I shall not live to want what you are determined to force from me, as these violent methods will soon deprive me of my existence, even if _you_ would withhold the murderous knife."

"Come, none of your d.a.m.ned whining; let me have the papers; and let us not think any more about it." He offered to raise me. "I want not your a.s.sistance," said I. "Oh! you are sulky, are you; but I shall let you know, Madam, these airs will not do with me." I had seated myself on a chair, and leaned my elbow on a table, supporting my head with my hand; he s.n.a.t.c.hed my hand away from my face, while he was making the last speech. "What the devil! am I to wait all day for the papers? Where are the keys?" "Take them," said I, drawing them from my pocket; "do what you will, provided you leave me to myself." "d.a.m.ned s.e.x!" cried he.

"Wives or mistresses, by Heaven! you are all alike." So saying, he went out of the room, and, opening my bureau, possessed himself of the parchment so much desired by him. I have not seen him since, and now it is past eleven. What a fate is mine! However, I have no more to give up; so he cannot storm at, or threaten me again, since I am now a beggar as well as himself. I shall sit about an hour longer, and then I shall fasten my door for the night; and I hope he will not insist on my opening it for him. I make Win lie in a little bed in a closet within my room. She is the only domestic I can place the least confidence in. She sees my eyes red with weeping; she sheds tears, but asks no questions.

Farewell, my dearest Louisa: pity the sufferings of thy sister, who feels every woe augmented by the grief she causes in your sympathizing breast.

Adieu! Adieu!

J.S.

LETTER x.x.xVII.

From the SYLPH.

I find my admonitions have failed, and my Julia has relinquished all her future dependence. Did you not promise an implicit obedience to my advice? How comes it then, that your husband triumphs in having the power of still visiting the gaming-tables, and betting with the utmost _eclat_? Settlements, as the late Lord Hardwicke used to say, are the foolishest bonds in nature, since there never yet was a woman who might not be kissed or kicked out of it: which of those methods Sir William has adopted, I know not; but it is plain it was a successful one. I pity you, my Julia; I grieve for you; and much fear, now Sir William has lost all restraint, he will lose the appearance of it likewise. What resource will he pursue next? Be on your guard, my most amiable friend; my foresight deceives me, or your danger is great. For when a man can once lose his humanity, so far as to deprive his wife of the means of subsisting herself, I much, very much fear he will so effectually lose his honour likewise, as to make a property of her's. May I judge too severely! May Sir William be an exception to my rule! And oh! may you, the fairest work of Heaven, be equally its care!

Adieu!

LETTER x.x.xVIII.

To the SYLPH.

Alas! I look for comfort when I open my kind Sylph's letters; yet in this before me you only point out the shoals and quicksands--but hold not out your sustaining hand, to guide me through the devious path. I have disobeyed your behest; but you know not how I have been urged, and my pained soul cannot support the repet.i.tion. I will ever be implicit in my obedience to you, as far as _I_ am concerned only; as to this particular point, you would not have had me disobeyed my husband, I am sure. Indeed I could do no other than I did. If he should make an ill use of the sums raised, I am not answerable for it; but, if he had been driven to any fatal exigence through my refusal, my wretchedness would have been more exquisite than it now is, which I think would have exceeded what I could have supported. Something is in agitation now; but what I am totally a stranger to. I have just heard from one of my servants, that Mr. Stanley, an uncle of Sir William's, is expected in town. Would to Heaven he may have the will and power to extricate us!

but I hear he is of a most morose temper, and was never on good terms with his nephew. The dangers you hint at, I hope, and pray without ceasing to Heaven, to be delivered from. Oh! that Sir William would permit me to return to my dear father and sister! in their kind embraces I should lose the remembrance of the tempests I have undergone; like the poor shipwrecked mariner, I should hail the friendly port, and never, never trust the deceitful ocean more. But ah! how fruitless this wish!

Here I am doomed to stay, a wretch undone.

Adieu!

J.S.

LETTER x.x.xIX.

TO Miss GRENVILLE.

The Baron called here this morning. Don't be angry with me, my dearest Louisa, for mentioning _his_ name, this will indeed be the last time.

Never more will thy sister behold him. He is gone; yes, Louisa, I shall never see him again. But will his looks, his sighs, and tears, be forgotten? Oh! never, never! He came to bid me adieu, "Could I but leave you happy," he cried in scarce articulate accents--"Was I but blest with the remote hope of your having your merit rewarded in this world, I should quit you with less regret and anguish. Oh! Lady Stanley! best of women! I mean not to lay claim to your grat.i.tude; far be such an idea from my soul! but for your sake I leave the kingdom."

"For mine!" I exclaimed, clasping my hands wildly together, hardly knowing what I said or did, "What! leave me! Leave the kingdom for my sake! Oh! my G.o.d! what advantage can accrue to me by losing"--I could not proceed; my voice failed me, and I remained the petrified statue of despair.

"Lady Stanley," said he with an a.s.sumed calmness, "be composed, and hear me. In an age like this, where the examples of vice are so many and so prevalent, though a woman is chaste as the icicle that hangs on Diana's temple, still she will be suspected; and, was the sun never to look upon her, yet she would be tainted by the envenomed breath of slander. Lady Anne Parker has dared in a public company to say, that the most virtuous and lovely of her s.e.x will speedily find consolation for the infidelity of her husband, by making reprisals; her malevolence has farther induced her to point her finger to one, who adores all the virtues with which Heaven first endued woman in your form. A voluntary banishment on my side may wipe off this transient eclipse of the fairest and most amiable character in the world, and the beauties of it shine forth with greater l.u.s.tre, like the diamond, which can only be sullied by the breath, and which evaporates in an instant, and beams with fresh brilliancy. I would not wish you to look into my heart," added he with a softened voice, "lest your compa.s.sion might affect you too much; yet you know not, you never can know, what I have suffered, and must for ever suffer.

"Condemn'd, alas! whole ages to deplore, And image charms I must behold no more."

I sat motionless during his speech; but, finding him silent, and, I believe, from his emotions, unable to proceed, "Behold," cried I, "with what a composed resignation I submit to my fate. I hoped I had been too inconsiderable to have excited the tongue of slander, or fix its sting in my bosom. But may you, my friend, regain your peace and happiness in your native country!"

"My native country!" exclaimed he, "What is my native country, what the whole globe itself, to that spot which contains all? But I will say no more. I dare not trust myself, I must not. Oh Julia! forgive me! Adieu, for ever!" I had no voice to detain him; I suffered him to quit the room, and my eyes lost sight of him--for ever!

I remained with my eyes stupidly fixed on the door. Oh! Louisa, dare I tell you? my soul seemed to follow him; and all my sufferings have been trivial to this. To be esteemed by him, to be worthy his regard, and read his approbation in his speaking eyes; this was my support, this sustained me, nor suffered my feet to strike against a stone in this disfigured path of destruction. He was my polar star. But he is gone, and knows not how much I loved him. I knew it not myself; else how could I promise never to speak, never to think of him again? But whence these wild expressions? Oh! pardon the effusions of phrenetic fancy. I know not what I have said. I am lost, lost!

J.S.

LETTER XL.

TO Colonel MONTAGUE.

Congratulate me, my dear Jack, on having beat the Baron out of the pit.

He is off, my boy! and now I may play a safer game; for, between ourselves, I have as much inclination to sleep in a whole skin, as somebody else you and I know of. I have really been more successful than I could have flattered myself I should be; but the devil still stands my friend, which is but grateful to be sure, as the devil is in it if one good turn does not deserve another; and I have helped his sable divinity to many a good job in my day. The summit of my wishes was to remove this troublesome fellow; but he has taken himself clean out of the kingdom, lest the fame of his Dulcinea should suffer in the _Morning Post_. He, if any man could, would not scruple drubbing that _Hydra_ of scandal; but then the stain would still remain where the blot had been made. I think you will be glad that he is punished at any rate for his impertinent interference in your late affair with the recruit's sweetheart. These delicate minds are ever contriving their own misery; and, from their exquisite sensibility, find out the method of refining on torture. Thus, in a fit of heroics, he has banished himself from the only woman he loves; and who in a short time, unless my ammunition fails, or my mine springs, too soon he might have a chance of being happy with, was he cast in mortal mould.--But I take it, he is one of that sort which Madame Sevigne calls "a pumkin fried in snow," or engendered between a Lapland sailor and a mermaid on the icy plains of Greenland. Even the charms of Julia can but just warm him. He does not burn like me. The consuming fire of Etna riots not in his veins, or he would have lost all consideration, but that of the completion of his whims. Mine have become ten times more eager from the resistance I have met with. Fool that I was! not to be able to keep a rein over my transports, till I had extinguished the lights! but to see her before me, my pulse beating with tumultuous pa.s.sion, and my villainous fancy antic.i.p.ating the tempting scene, all conspired to give such spirit to my caresses, as ill suited with the character I a.s.sumed of an indifferent husband. Like _Calista_ of old, she soon discovered the G.o.d under the semblance of Diana. Heavens! how she fired up, and like the leopard, appeared more beauteous when heightened by anger? But in vain, my pretty trembler, in vain you struggle in the toils; thy price is paid, and thou wilt soon be mine. Stanley has lost every thing to me but his property in his wife's person; and though perhaps he may make a few wry faces, he must digest that bitter pill. He has obliged her to give up all her jointure, so she has now no dependance. What a fool he is! but he has ever been so; the most palpable cheat pa.s.ses on him; and though he is morally certain, that to _play_ and to _lose_ is one and the same thing, yet nothing can cure his cursed itch of gaming. Notwithstanding all the _remonstrances_ I have made, and the _dissuasives_ I have daily used, he is bent upon his own destruction; and, since that is plainly the case, why may not I, and a few clever fellows like myself, take advantage of his egregious folly?

It was but yesterday I met him. "I am most consumedly in the flat key, Biddulph," said he; "I know not what to do with myself. For G.o.d's sake!