Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
“Fear nothing, child. I will give him no hint; and, that I may be
certain of not doing it, I will stay away. You do not think, I hope,
that I will join in a chearful conversation with such a man; that I will
so far betray my character as to give any countenance to such flagitious
proceedings. Besides, my promise was only conditional; and I do not know
whether I could otherwise have kept it; for I expect an old friend every
day who comes to town twenty miles on foot to see me, whom I shall not
part with on any account; for, as he is very poor, he may imagine I
treat him with disrespect.”
“Well, sir,” cries Amelia, “I must admire you and love you for your
goodness.”
“Must you love me?” cries the doctor. “I could cure you now in a minute
if I pleased.”
“Indeed, I defy you, sir,” said Amelia.
“If I could but persuade you,” answered he, “that I thought you not
handsome, away would vanish all ideas of goodness in an instant. Confess
honestly, would they not?”
“Perhaps I might blame the goodness of your eyes,” replied Amelia; “and
that is perhaps an honester confession than you expected. But do,
pray, sir, be serious, and give me your advice what to do. Consider the
difficult game I have to play; for I am sure, after what I have told
you, you would not even suffer me to remain under the roof of this
colonel.”
“No, indeed, would I not,” said the doctor, “whilst I have a house of my
own to entertain you.”
“But how to dissuade my husband,” continued she, “without giving him any
suspicion of the real cause, the consequences of his guessing at which I
tremble to think upon.”
“I will consult my pillow upon it,” said the doctor; “and in the morning
you shall see me again. In the mean time be comforted, and compose the
perturbations of your mind.”
“Well, sir,” said she, “I put my whole trust in you.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” cries the doctor. “Your innocence may give you
a very confident trust in a much more powerful assistance. However, I
will do all I can to serve you: and now, if you please, we will call
back your husband; for, upon my word, he hath shewn a good catholic
patience. And where is the honest serjeant and his wife? I am pleased
with the behaviour of you both to that worthy fellow, in opposition to
the custom of the world; which, instead of being formed on the precepts
of our religion to consider each other as brethren, teaches us to regard
those who are a degree below us, either in rank or fortune, as a species
of beings of an inferior order in the creation.”
The captain now returned into the room, as did the serjeant and Mrs.
Atkinson; and the two couple, with the doctor, spent the evening
together in great mirth and festivity; for the doctor was one of the
best companions in the world, and a vein of chearfulness, good humour,
and pleasantry, ran through his conversation, with which it was
impossible to resist being pleased.
Chapter vi.
_Containing as surprizing an accident as is perhaps recorded in
history_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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