Eased of the constraint which decency, and the respect which she thought due to his quality, had laid her under while he was there, her natural sprightliness burst with double force. Mr. Munden, who came in soon after, felt the effects of it: he, indeed, enjoyed a benefit he little dreamt of. The absurd conversation of a rival he as yet knew nothing of, served to make all he said sound more agreeable than ever in the ears of his mistress: in this excess of good-humour, she not only made a handsome apology for the treatment he had received at Mrs. Modely's, (a thing she had never before vouchsafed to do to any of her lovers) but also gave him an invitation to squire her to a country dancing, in which she had engaged to make one the ensuing night. CHAPTER IV _If it were not for some particulars, might be as well passed over as read_ Miss Betsy, one would think, had now sufficient matter to employ her meditations on the score of those two lovers who at present laid close siege to her, neither of whom she was willing to part with entirely, and to retain either she found required some management: Mr. Munden was beginning to grow impatient at the little progress his long courtship had made on her affections; and Sir Frederick Fineer, on the other hand, was for bringing things to a conclusion at once; she was also every day receiving transient addresses from many others; which, though not meant seriously by those who made them, nor taken so by her, served occasionally to fill up any vacuum in her mind; yet was it not in the power of love, gallantry, or any other amusement, to drive the memory of Mr. Trueworth wholly out of her head; which shews, that to a woman of sense, a man of real merit, even though he is not loved, can never be totally indifferent. But she was at this time more than ordinarily agitated on that gentleman's account; she doubted not but her brother Frank either had, or would shortly have, a long conference with him, on the subject of his desisting his visits to her, and could not keep herself from feeling some palpitations for the event; for though she was not resolved to afford any recompence to his love, she earnestly wished he should continue to desire it, and that she might still preserve her former dominion over a heart which she had always looked upon as the most valuable prize of all that her beauty had ever gained. Thus unreasonable, and indeed unjust, was she in the affairs of love: in all others she was humane, benevolent, and kind; but here covetous, even to a greediness, of receiving all, without any intention of making the least return. In fine, the time was not yet come when she should be capable of being touched with that herself which she took so much pains to inspire in others.