"Don't presume too much," I returned with a smile. "You have convinced
me, you are capable of great artifice; but I shall insist on your
explaining your whole plan of operations, as an atonement for your
double, nay treble dealing, for I think you are three in one. But I am
impatient to behold my father, whom, the moment before I saw you, I was
accusing of cruelty, in seeking to urge me in the favour of one I was
determined never to see."
"But now you have seen him (it was all your sister required of you, you
know), will you be inexorable to his vows?"
"I am determined to be guided by my Sylph," cried I, "in this momentous
instance. That was my resolution, and still shall remain the same."
"Suppose thy Sylph had recommended you to bestow your hand on Woodley?
What would have become of poor _Ton-hausen_?"
"My confidence in the Sylph was established on the conviction of his
being my safest guide; as such, he would never have urged me to bestow
my hand where my heart was refractory; but, admitting the possibility of
the Sylph's pursuing such a measure, a negative voice would have been
allowed me; and no power, human or divine, should have constrained that
voice to breathe out a vow of fidelity to any other than him to whom the
secrets of my heart have been so long known."
By this time we had nearly reached the house, from whence my father
sprung with the utmost alacrity to meet me. As he pressed me to his
venerable bosom, "Can my Julia refuse the request of her father, to
receive, as the best pledge of his affection, this valuable present? And
will she forgive the innocent trial we made of her fidelity to the most
amiable of men?"
"Ah! I know not what to say," cried I; "here has been sad management
amongst you. But I shall soon forget the heart-aches I have experienced,
if they have removed from this gentleman any suspicions that I did not
regard him for himself alone. He has, I think, adopted the character of
Prior's Henry; and I hope he is convinced that the faithful Emma is not
a fiction of the poet's brain. I know not," I continued, "by what name
to call him."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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