_ Chapter VIII - Further continuation.
"No sooner," said Mrs. Bennet, continuing her story, "was my lord
departed, than Mrs. Ellison came to me. She behaved in such a manner,
when she became acquainted with what had past, that, though I was at
first satisfied of her guilt, she began to stagger my opinion, and at
length prevailed upon me entirely to acquit her. She raved like a mad
woman against my lord, swore he should not stay a moment in her house,
and that she would never speak to him more. In short, had she been the
most innocent woman in the world, she could not have spoke nor acted
any otherwise, nor could she have vented more wrath and indignation
against the betrayer.
"That part of her denunciation of vengeance which concerned my lord's
leaving the house she vowed should be executed immediately; but then,
seeming to recollect herself, she said, 'Consider, my dear child, it
is for your sake alone I speak; will not such a proceeding give some
suspicion to your husband?' I answered, that I valued not that; that I
was resolved to inform my husband of all the moment I saw him; with
many expressions of detestation of myself and an indifference for life
and for everything else.
"Mrs. Ellison, however, found means to soothe me, and to satisfy me
with my own innocence, a point in which, I believe, we are all easily
convinced. In short, I was persuaded to acquit both myself and her, to
lay the whole guilt upon my lord, and to resolve to conceal it from my
husband.
"That whole day I confined myself to my chamber and saw no person but
Mrs. Ellison. I was, indeed, ashamed to look any one in the face.
Happily for me, my lord went into the country without attempting to
come near me, for I believe his sight would have driven me to madness.
"The next day I told Mrs. Ellison that I was resolved to leave her
lodgings the moment my lord came to town; not on her account (for I
really inclined to think her innocent), but on my lord's, whose face I
was resolved, if possible, never more to behold. She told me I had no
reason to quit her house on that score, for that my lord himself had
left her lodgings that morning in resentment, she believed, of the
abuses Which she had cast on him the day before.
"This confirmed me in the opinion of her innocence; nor hath she from
that day to this, till my acquaintance with you, madam, done anything
to forfeit my opinion. On the contrary, I owe her many good offices;
amongst the rest, I have an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds a-
year from my lord, which I know was owing to her solicitations, for
she is not void of generosity or good-nature; though by what I have
lately seen, I am convinced she was the cause of my ruin, and hath
endeavoured to lay the same snares for you.
"But to return to my melancholy story. My husband returned at the
appointed time; and I met him with an agitation of mind not to be
described. Perhaps the fatigue which he had undergone in his journey,
and his dissatisfaction at his ill success, prevented his taking
notice of what I feared was too visible. All his hopes were entirely
frustrated; the clergyman had not received the bishop's letter, and as
to my lord's he treated it with derision and contempt. Tired as he
was, Mr. Bennet would not sit down till he had enquired for my lord,
intending to go and pay his compliments. Poor man! he little suspected
that he had deceived him, as I have since known, concerning the
bishop; much less did he suspect any other injury. But the lord--the
villain was gone out of town, so that he was forced to postpone all
his gratitude.
"Mr. Bennet returned to town late on the Saturday night, nevertheless
he performed his duty at church the next day, but I refused to go with
him. This, I think, was the first refusal I was guilty of since our
marriage; but I was become so miserable, that his presence, which had
been the source of all my happiness, was become my bane. I will not
say I hated to see him, but I can say I was ashamed, indeed afraid, to
look him in the face. I was conscious of I knew not what--guilt I hope
it cannot be called."
"I hope not, nay, I think not," cries Amelia.
"My husband," continued Mrs. Bennet, "perceived my dissatisfaction,
and imputed it to his ill-success in the country. I was pleased with
this self-delusion, and yet, when I fairly compute the agonies I
suffered at his endeavours to comfort me on that head, I paid most
severely for it. O, my dear Mrs. Booth! happy is the deceived party
between true lovers, and wretched indeed is the author of the deceit!
"In this wretched condition I passed a whole week, the most miserable
I think of my whole life, endeavouring to humour my husband's delusion
and to conceal my own tortures; but I had reason to fear I could not
succeed long, for on the Saturday night I perceived a visible
alteration in his behaviour to me. He went to bed in an apparent ill-
humour, turned sullenly from me, and if I offered at any endearments
he gave me only peevish answers.
"After a restless turbulent night, he rose early on Sunday morning and
walked down-stairs. I expected his return to breakfast, but was soon
informed by the maid that he was gone forth, and that it was no more
than seven o'clock. All this you may believe, madam, alarmed me. I saw
plainly he had discovered the fatal secret, though by what means I
could not divine. The state of my mind was very little short of
madness. Sometimes I thought of running away from my injured husband,
and sometimes of putting an end to my life.
"In the midst of such perturbations I spent the day. My husband
returned in the evening. O, Heavens! can I describe what followed?--It
is impossible! I shall sink under the relation. He entered the room
with a face as white as a sheet, his lips trembling and his eyes red
as coals of fire starting as it were from his head.--'Molly,' cries
he, throwing himself into his chair, 'are you well?' 'Good Heavens!'
says I, 'what's the matter?--Indeed I can't say I am well.' 'No!' says
he, starting from his chair, 'false monster, you have betrayed me,
destroyed me, you have ruined your husband!' Then looking like a fury,
he snatched off a large book from the table, and, with the malice of a
madman, threw it at my head and knocked me down backwards. He then
caught me up in his arms and kissed me with most extravagant
tenderness; then, looking me stedfastly in the face for several
moments, the tears gushed in a torrent from his eyes, and with his
utmost violence he threw me again on the floor, kicked me, stamped
upon me. I believe, indeed, his intent was to kill me, and I believe
he thought he had accomplished it.
"I lay on the ground for some minutes, I believe, deprived of my
senses. When I recovered myself I found my husband lying by my side on
his face, and the blood running from him. It seems, when he thought he
had despatched me, he ran his head with all his force against a chest
of drawers which stood in the room, and gave himself a dreadful wound
in his head.
"I can truly say I felt not the least resentment for the usage I had
received; I thought I deserved it all; though, indeed, I little
guessed what he had suffered from me. I now used the most earnest
entreaties to him to compose himself; and endeavoured, with my feeble
arms, to raise him from the ground. At length he broke from me, and,
springing from the ground, flung himself into a chair, when, looking
wildly at me, he cried--'Go from me, Molly. I beseech you, leave me. I
would not kill you.'--He then discovered to me--O Mrs. Booth! can you
not guess it?--I was indeed polluted by the villain--I had infected my
husband.--O heavens! why do I live to relate anything so horrid--I
will not, I cannot yet survive it. I cannot forgive myself. Heaven
cannot forgive me!"
Here she became inarticulate with the violence of her grief, and fell
presently into such agonies, that the frighted Amelia began to call
aloud for some assistance. Upon this a maid-servant came up, who,
seeing her mistress in a violent convulsion fit, presently screamed
out she was dead. Upon which one of the other sex made his appearance:
and who should this be but the honest serjeant? whose countenance soon
made it evident that, though a soldier, and a brave one too, he was
not the least concerned of all the company on this occasion.
The reader, if he hath been acquainted with scenes of this kind, very
well knows that Mrs. Bennet, in the usual time, returned again to the
possession of her voice: the first use of which she made was to
express her astonishment at the presence of the serjeant, and, with a
frantic air, to enquire who he was.
The maid, concluding that her mistress was not yet returned to her
senses, answered, "Why, 'tis my master, madam. Heaven preserve your
senses, madam!--Lord, sir, my mistress must be very bad not to know
you!"
What Atkinson thought at this instant, I will not say; but certain it
is he looked not over-wise. He attempted twice to take hold of Mrs.
Bennet's hand, but she withdrew it hastily, and presently after,
rising up from her chair, she declared herself pretty well again, and
desired Atkinson and the maid to withdraw. Both of whom presently
obeyed: the serjeant appearing by his countenance to want comfort
almost as much as the lady did to whose assistance he had been
summoned,
It is a good maxim to trust a person entirely or not at all; for a
secret is often innocently blabbed out by those who know but half of
it. Certain it is that the maid's speech communicated a suspicion to
the mind of Amelia which the behaviour of the serjeant did not tend to
remove: what that is, the sagacious readers may likewise probably
suggest to themselves; if not, they must wait our time for disclosing
it. We shall now resume the history of Mrs. Bennet, who, after many
apologies, proceeded to the matters in the next chapter. _