The Man of the World (1792) | Page 6

my ear close to the door,--I heard my young master ask Miss Constantia the plain marriage question--upon which I started--and trembled--nay my very conscience stirred within me so,--that I could not help peeping through the key-hole.
Sid. Ha, ha, ha! and so your conscience made you peep through the key-hole, Mrs. Betty?
Bet. It did indeed, sir:--and there I saw my young master upon his knees--lord bless us--and what do you think he was doing?--kissing her hand as if he would eat it--and protesting--and assuring her--he knew that you, sir, would consent to the match--and then the tears ran down her cheeks as fast--
_Sid._ Ay!
_Bet._ They did indeed. I would not tell your reverence a lie for the world.
Sid. I believe it, Mrs. Betty--and what did Constantia say to all this?
Bet. O!--O! she is sly enough; she looks as if butter would not melt in her mouth; but all is not gold that glitters; smooth water, you know, sir, runs deepest:--I am sorry my young master makes such a fool of himself-- but--um!--take my word for it, he is not the man,--for though she looks as modest as a maid at a christening--[_hesitating._] yet--ah!--when sweethearts meet--in the dusk of the evening--and stay together a whole hour--in the dark grove--and embrace--and kiss--and weep at parting,--why then you know, sir, it is easy to guess all the rest.
_Sid._ Why did Constantia meet any body in this manner?
_Bet._ [Starting with surprise.] O! heavens!--I beg, sir, you will not misapprehend me; for I assure you I do not believe they did any harm--that is, not in the grove--at least, not when I was there;--and she may be honestly married for aught I know.--O! lud! sir,--I would not say an ill thing of Miss Constantia for the world,--for to be sure she is a good creature:--'tis true, my lady took her in for charity, and indeed has bred her up to the music and figures;--ay, and reading all the books about Homer--and Paradise--and Gods and Devils,--and every thing in the world,-- as if she had been a dutchess: but some people are born with luck in their mouths, and then--as the saying is--you may throw them into the sea-- [_deports herself most affedtedly._] but--if I had had dancing masters-- and music masters--and French Mounseers to teach me--I believe I might have read the globes, and the maps,--and have danced,--and have been as clever as other folks.
_Sid._ Ha, ha, ha! no doubt on it, Mrs. Betty;--but you mentioned something of a dark walk,--kissing,--a sweetheart and Constantia.
_Bet._ [Starts into a cautious hypocrisy.] O! lud! sir--I don't know any thing of the matter: she may be very honest for aught I know: I only say, that they did meet in the dark walk,--and all the servants observe that Miss Constantia wears her stays very loose--looks very pale--is sick in a morning, and after dinner: and, as sure as my name is Betty Hint, something has happened that I won't name,--but--nine months hence--a certain person in this family may ask me to stand godmother, for I think I know what's what, when I see it as well as another.
Sid. No doubt you do, Mrs. Betty.
Bet. [_Cries, turns up her eyes, and acts a most friendly hypocrisy_.] I do, indeed, sir. I am very sorry for Miss Constantia. I never thought she would have taken such courses--for in truth I love her as if she was my own sister; and though all the servants say that she is breeding--yet, for my part, I don't believe it; but--one must speak according to one's conscience, you know, sir.
Sid. O! I see you do.
Bet. [Going and returning.] I do indeed, sir: and so your servant, sir--but--I hope your worship won't mention my name in this business;--or that you had any item from me.
Sid. I shall not, Mrs. Betty.
Bet. For, indeed, sir, I am no busybody, nor do I love fending nor proving; and, I assure you, sir, I hate all tittling and tattling, and gossiping and backbiting, and taking away a person's good name.
Sid. I observe you do, Mrs. Betty.
Set. I do indeed, sir. I am the farthest from it in the world.
Sid. I dare say you are.
Bet. I am indeed, sir, and so your humble servant.
Sid. Your servant, Mrs. Betty.
Bet. [_Aside, in great exultation_.] So! I see he believes every word I say,--that's charming. I'll do her business for her I am resolved. [_Exit._
Sid. What can this ridiculous creature mean by her dark walk,--her private spark, her kissing, and all her slanderous insinuations against Constantia, whose conduct is as unblamable as innocence itself? I see envy is as malignant in a paltry waiting wench, as in the vainest or most ambitious lady of the court.--It is always an infallible mark of the basest nature; and merit in the lowest, as well as in the