Memoirs of Miss Sidney Biddulph: Extracted from her own Journal, and now first publishedSheridan, Frances Chamberlaine
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Memoirs of Miss Sidney Biddulph: Extracted from her own Journal, and now first published
Sheridan, Frances Chamberlaine
English fiction -- 18th century
I answered, that might possibly have happened; but that he might have
continued long enough under his infatuation intirely to ruin his family:
and as for what regarded me in particular, I knew of no means so likely
to remove his unjust suspicions effectually, as those which Mr Faulkland
had taken.
You are right, my dear, said she; let us hope the best. I am glad Mr
Faulkland does not mean to return soon to England: there is but one
event which could ever reconcile me to his doing so; and that is, in
order to do justice to the unfortunate Miss Burchell. If he would wipe
out that blot in his character by marrying her, I should again allow him
to be a good man: at present, I own, I can't help being dissatisfied,
that one, so blameable as I think him, should have laid my daughter
under the obligations which he has done.
I said it would rejoice me if he could be prevailed on to make Miss
Burchell the reparation she mentioned; but I feared she had no advocate
with Mr Faulkland; though I was of opinion, if he were made acquainted
with the life of sorrow she led, as well as her reserved and modest
behaviour, he would be inclined to favour her; especially if he were to
see the poor little boy.
My mother said, He never could expect quiet of mind, till he had wiped
the tears from her eyes.
Miss Burchell came in while we were speaking of her: my mother is always
glad to see her. The poor girl had been exceedingly shocked at Mr
Faulkland's carrying away her aunt. She thought this action put such an
invincible bar between her and her hopes (almost desperate before), that
it went near to distract her; for though there was no consanguinity in
the case, yet the degree of relationship between her and Mrs Gerrarde,
made her look upon this amour (for so she considered it) with the utmost
horror. She had so often expressed her sense of it in so lively a
manner, both to my mother and me, that had Mr Faulkland even been
inclined to offer his hand, she could not, consistently either with
virtue or common decency, have accepted of it.
My mother, ever delighted with acts of humanity, was in haste to
communicate the true state of the case to Miss Burchell. It was her
interest to keep our secret; therefore I made no scruple of trusting her
with it; especially as I knew it would so much contribute to her peace
of mind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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