The History of Sir Charles Grandison | Page 5

have done for him.
I cannot, said Jeronymo, express suitably my gratitude: my prayers, my
vows, shall follow you whithersoever you go, best of friends, and best
of men!
The general, with an air and a smile that might have been dispensed
with, oddly said, High pleasure and high pain are very near neighbours:
they are often guilty of excesses, and then are apt to mistake each
other's house. I am one of those who think our whole house obliged to
the chevalier for the seasonable assistance he gave to our Jeronymo.
But--
Dear general, said Lady Juliana, bear with an interruption: the intent of
this meeting is amicable. The chevalier is a man of honour. Things may
have fallen out unhappily; yet nobody to blame.
As to blame, or otherwise, said the Conte della Porretta, that is not now
to be talked of; else, I know where it lies: in short, among ourselves.
The chevalier acted greatly by Signor Jeronymo: we were all obliged to
him: but to let such a man as this have free admission to our daughter--
She ought to have had no eyes.
Pray, my lord, pray, brother, said the marquis, are we not enough
sufferers?
The chevalier, said the general, cannot but be gratified by so high a
compliment; and smiled indignantly.
My lord, replied I to the general, you know very little of the man before
you, if you don't believe him to be the most afflicted man present.
Impossible! said the marquis, with a sigh.
The marchioness arose from her seat, motioning to go; and turning
round to the two ladies, and the count, I have resigned my will to the
will of you all, my dearest friends, and shall be permitted to withdraw.
This testimony, however, before I go, I cannot but bear: Wherever the
fault lay, it lay not with the chevalier. He has, from the first to the last,
acted with the nicest honour. He is entitled to our respect. The
unhappiness lies nowhere but in the difference of religion.
Well, and that now is absolutely out of the question, said the general: it
is indeed, chevalier.
I hope, my lord, from a descendant of a family so illustrious, to find an

equal exemption from wounding words, and wounding looks; and that,
sir, as well from your generosity, as from your justice.
My looks give you offence, chevalier!--Do they?
I attended to the marchioness. She came towards me. I arose, and
respectfully took her hand.--Chevalier, said she, I could not withdraw
without bearing the testimony I have borne to your merits. I wish you
happy.--God protect you, whithersoever you go. Adieu.
She wept. I bowed on her hand with profound respect. She retired with
precipitation. It was with difficulty that I suppressed the rising tear. I
took my seat.
I made no answer to the general's last question, though it was spoken in
such a way (I saw by their eyes) as took every other person's notice.
Lady Sforza, when her sister was retired, hinted, that the last interview
between the young lady and me was an unadvised permission, though
intended for the best.
I then took upon me to defend that step. Lady Clementina, said I, had
declared, that if she were allowed to speak her whole mind to me, she
should be easy. I had for some time given myself up to absolute despair.
The marchioness intended not favour to me in allowing of the interview:
it was the most affecting one to me I had ever known. But let me say,
that, far from having bad effects on the young lady's mind, it had good
ones. I hardly knew how to talk upon a subject so very interesting to
every one present, but not more so to any one than to myself. I thought
of avoiding it; and have been led into it, but did not lead. And since it is
before us, let me recommend, as the most effectual way to restore every
one to peace and happiness, gentle treatment. The most generous of
human minds, the most meek, the most dutiful, requires not harsh
methods.
How do you know, sir, said the general, and looked at Jeronymo, the
methods now taken--
And are they then harsh, my lord? said I.
He was offended.
I had heard, proceeded I, that a change of measures was resolved on. I
knew that the treatment before had been all gentle, condescending,
indulgent. I received but yesterday letters from my father, signifying
his intention of speedily recalling me to my native country. I shall set
out very soon for Paris, where I hope to meet with his more direct

commands for this long-desired end. What may be my destiny, I know
not; but I shall carry with me a heart burdened