_ Chapter VI - A scene in which some ladies will possibly think
Amelia's conduct exceptionable.
Booth and his wife being left alone, a solemn silence prevailed during
a few minutes. At last Amelia, who, though a good, was yet a human
creatures said to her husband, "Pray, my dear, do inform me what could
put you into so great a passion when Mrs. Ellison first offered me the
tickets for this masquerade?"
"I had rather you would not ask me," said Booth. "You have obliged me
greatly in your ready acquiescence with my desire, and you will add
greatly to the obligation by not enquiring the reason of it. This you
may depend upon, Amelia, that your good and happiness are the great
objects of all my wishes, and the end I propose in all my actions.
This view alone could tempt me to refuse you anything, or to conceal
anything from you."
"I will appeal to yourself," answered she, "whether this be not using
me too much like a child, and whether I can possibly help being a
little offended at it?"
"Not in the least," replied he; "I use you only with the tenderness of
a friend. I would only endeavour to conceal that from you which I
think would give you uneasiness if you knew. These are called the
pious frauds of friendship."
"I detest all fraud," says she; "and pious is too good an epithet to
be joined to so odious a word. You have often, you know, tried these
frauds with no better effect than to teize and torment me. You cannot
imagine, my dear, but that I must have a violent desire to know the
reason of words which I own I never expected to have heard. And the
more you have shown a reluctance to tell me, the more eagerly I have
longed to know. Nor can this be called a vain curiosity, since I seem
so much interested in this affair. If after all this, you still insist
on keeping the secret, I will convince you I am not ignorant of the
duty of a wife by my obedience; but I cannot help telling you at the
same time you will make me one of the most miserable of women."
"That is," cries he, "in other words, my dear Emily, to say, I will be
contented without the secret, but I am resolved to know it,
nevertheless."
"Nay, if you say so," cries she, "I am convinced you will tell me.
Positively, dear Billy, I must and will know."
"Why, then, positively," says Booth, "I will tell you. And I think I
shall then shew you that, however well you may know the duty of a
wife, I am not always able to behave like a husband. In a word then,
my dear, the secret is no more than this; I am unwilling you should
receive any more presents from my lord."
"Mercy upon me!" cries she, with all the marks of astonishment; "what!
a masquerade ticket!"--
"Yes, my dear," cries he; "that is, perhaps, the very worst and most
dangerous of all. Few men make presents of those tickets to ladies
without intending to meet them at the place. And what do we know of
your companion? To be sincere with you, I have not liked her behaviour
for some time. What might be the consequence of going with such a
woman to such a place, to meet such a person, I tremble to think. And
now, my dear, I have told you my reason of refusing her offer with
some little vehemence, and I think I need explain myself no farther."
"You need not, indeed, sir," answered she. "Good Heavens! did I ever
expect to hear this? I can appeal to heaven, nay, I will appeal to
yourself, Mr. Booth, if I have ever done anything to deserve such a
suspicion. If ever any action of mine, nay, if ever any thought, had
stained the innocence of my soul, I could be contented."
"How cruelly do you mistake me!" said Booth. "What suspicion have I
ever shewn?"
"Can you ask it," answered she, "after what you have just now
declared?"
"If I have declared any suspicion of you," replied he, "or if ever I
entertained a thought leading that way, may the worst of evils that
ever afflicted human nature attend me! I know the pure innocence of
that tender bosom, I do know it, my lovely angel, and adore it. The
snares which might be laid for that innocence were alone the cause of
my apprehension. I feared what a wicked and voluptuous man, resolved
to sacrifice everything to the gratification of a sensual appetite
with the most delicious repast, might attempt. If ever I injured the
unspotted whiteness of thy virtue in my imagination, may hell---"
"Do not terrify me," cries she, interrupting him, "with such
imprecations. O, Mr. Booth! Mr. Booth! you must well know that a
woman's virtue is always her sufficient guard. No husband, without
suspecting that, can suspect any danger from those snares you mention;
and why, if you are liable to take such things into your head, may not
your suspicions fall on me as well as on any other? for sure nothing
was ever more unjust, I will not say ungrateful, than the suspicions
which you have bestowed on his lordship. I do solemnly declare, in all
the times I have seen the poor man, he hath never once offered the
least forwardness. His behaviour hath been polite indeed, but rather
remarkably distant than otherwise. Particularly when we played at
cards together. I don't remember he spoke ten words to me all the
evening; and when I was at his house, though he shewed the greatest
fondness imaginable to the children, he took so little notice of me,
that a vain woman would have been very little pleased with him. And if
he gave them many presents, he never offered me one. The first,
indeed, which he ever offered me was that which you in that kind
manner forced me to refuse."
"All this may be only the effect of art," said Booth. "I am convinced
he doth, nay, I am convinced he must like you; and my good friend
James, who perfectly well knows the world, told me, that his
lordship's character was that of the most profuse in his pleasures
with women; nay, what said Mrs. James this very evening? 'His lordship
is extremely generous--where he likes.' I shall never forget the sneer
with which she spoke those last words."
"I am convinced they injure him," cries Amelia. "As for Mrs. James,
she was always given to be censorious; I remarked it in her long ago,
as her greatest fault. And for the colonel, I believe he may find
faults enow of this kind in his own bosom, without searching after
them among his neighbours. I am sure he hath the most impudent look of
all the men I know; and I solemnly declare, the very last time he was
here he put me out of countenance more than once."
"Colonel James," answered Booth, "may have his faults very probably. I
do not look upon him as a saint, nor do I believe he desires I should;
but what interest could he have in abusing this lord's character to
me? or why should I question his truth, when he assured me that my
lord had never done an act of beneficence in his life but for the sake
of some woman whom he lusted after?"
"Then I myself can confute him," replied Amelia: "for, besides his
services to you, which, for the future, I shall wish to forget, and
his kindness to my little babes, how inconsistent is the character
which James gives of him with his lordship's behaviour to his own
nephew and niece, whose extreme fondness of their uncle sufficiently
proclaims his goodness to them? I need not mention all that I have
heard from Mrs. Ellison, every word of which I believe; for I have
great reason to think, notwithstanding some little levity, which, to
give her her due, she sees and condemns in herself, she is a very good
sort of woman."
"Well, my dear," cries Booth, "I may have been deceived, and I
heartily hope I am so; but in cases of this nature it is always good
to be on the surest side; for, as Congreve says,
'The wise too jealous are: fools too secure.'"
Here Amelia burst into tears, upon which Booth immediately caught her
in his arms, and endeavoured to comfort her. Passion, however, for a
while obstructed her speech, and at last she cried, "O, Mr. Booth! can
I bear to hear the word jealousy from your mouth?"
"Why, my love," said Booth, "will you so fatally misunderstand my
meaning? how often shall I protest that it is not of you, but of him,
that I was jealous? If you could look into my breast, and there read
all the most secret thoughts of my heart, you would not see one faint
idea to your dishonour."
"I don't misunderstand you, my dear," said she, "so much as I am
afraid you misunderstand yourself. What is it you fear?--you mention
not force, but snares. Is not this to confess, at least, that you have
some doubt of my understanding? do you then really imagine me so weak
as to be cheated of my virtue?--am I to be deceived into an affection
for a man before I perceive the least inward hint of my danger? No,
Mr. Booth, believe me, a woman must be a fool indeed who can have in
earnest such an excuse for her actions. I have not, I think, any very
high opinion of my judgment, but so far I shall rely upon it, that no
man breathing could have any such designs as you have apprehended
without my immediately seeing them; and how I should then act I hope
my whole conduct to you hath sufficiently declared."
"Well, my dear," cries Booth, "I beg you will mention it no more; if
possible, forget it. I hope, nay, I believe, I have been in the wrong;
pray forgive me."
"I will, I do forgive you, my dear," said she, "if forgiveness be a
proper word for one whom you have rather made miserable than angry;
but let me entreat you to banish for ever all such suspicions from
your mind. I hope Mrs. Ellison hath not discovered the real cause of
your passion; but, poor woman, if she had, I am convinced it would go
no farther. Oh, Heavens! I would not for the world it should reach his
lordship's ears. You would lose the best friend that ever man had.
Nay, I would not for his own sake, poor man; for I really believe it
would affect him greatly, and I must, I cannot help having an esteem
for so much goodness. An esteem which, by this dear hand," said she,
taking Booth's hand and kissing it, "no man alive shall ever obtain by
making love to me."
Booth caught her in his arms and tenderly embraced her. After which
the reconciliation soon became complete; and Booth, in the
contemplation of his happiness, entirely buried all his jealous
thoughts. _