Traducción
Original
Capítulo X
Incidentes importantes
Muchas horas había que Arabela estaba en su gabinete pensando en sus desgracias, cuando vinieron a informarla de que su padre había dado una caída del caballo15. Arabela corrió a verlo y se presentó con los ojos bañados en llanto, y aumentaba su dolor el reproche que se hacía de haberlo querido abandonar. Levantose Glanville así que ella entró y la presentó una silla. Mientras se informaba de las circunstancias de la caída, se la notaba aquella conmoción íntima que solo pueda promover el verdadero sentimiento; examinaba Glanville sus facciones y las hallaba más hermosas con la expresión de la ternura. Arabela lo conoció y, viendo que sus cuidados no eran necesarios en aquel instante, propuso que dejaran descansar a su padre y se retiró. Glanville la siguió y la presentó su mano para subir la escalera, pero la rehusó16.
—En verdad, prima mía –la dijo–, que queréis perpetuar vuestro mal humor: ¿pensáis continuar por mucho tiempo esta desagradable burla?
—Si habéis supuesto que me burlo, falta es de vuestro juicio y, en este caso, convengo en que hice mal de atribuir a insolencias vuestros procederes familiares, pero, cualquiera que la causa fuere, os repito que me han desagradado sumamente.
—Claro es eso y veo ahora que no os burláis, pero hacedme la gracia de decirme por qué he merecido vuestra indignación, porque os protesto que no alcanzo a adivinarlo.
—¿No fue bastante ofenderme con una declaración de amor temeraria e injuriosa? ¿Era necesario aun, en desprecio de mis órdenes, volveros a presentar a mí, perseguirme hasta mi gabinete y acompañar con amenazas tan indignos procederes?
—¡Qué de cosas ve vuestra imaginación, prima mía! No me creía tan culpado. Dignaos de escucharme un momento. Tengo hecho voto de amar cuanto es amable y me atreví a declararme adorador de vuestro mérito; permitidme que os pregunte si lo que llamáis insulto, temeridad e insolencia, es la declaración que de esto os hice.
—Sin duda.
—En este caso, señora, es difícil no pareceros odioso y no debo permanecer a vuestra inmediación17: perdonadme y quedaos con Dios. p. 61
—No perdono tan fácilmente como imagináis, solo el tiempo y el arrepentimiento pueden conseguiros esta gracia.
Diciendo estas palabras la heroína le hizo señas para que se fuera y, como no se viese prontamente obedecida, se entró en su gabinete y se encerró con las mayores precauciones.
Glanville también se retiró a su cuarto, más que nunca sorprendido del carácter de su prima. Presentáronsele tumultuariamente en su entendimiento infinitas contradicciones. Parecíale Arabela dura, seca e imperiosa, pero ¡cuánta sensibilidad no acababa de mostrar a su padre! Estaba educada como en el campo y con poquísimo uso del trato del mundo, pero ¡qué de tersitud y de nobleza no se echaba de ver en sus expresiones18! Su entendimiento tenía rarezas, pero era consiguiente y aun advertía en sus raciocinios una especie de lógica, que solo podía venir de mucha penetración19. Considerado todo, se atuvo a la idea de que él no era de su gusto y de que ella representaba aquel papel singular para alejarlo. Tenía Glanville sobradamente grande el alma para recurrir a la autoridad y le pareció que el mejor medio era volverse a Londres sin hablar más en el asunto. Partió, en efecto, al día siguiente antes de que nadie se levantara y cuando hubo andado lo suficiente para que sus caballos descansaran, escribió a su tío y envió la carta por un propio20.
Recuperado el marqués de su accidente, por medio de una muy buena noche, envió a buscar a Gianville y le dijeron que había salido a caballo. No dejó de extrañar su indiferencia, se impacientó por su tardanza y empezó a temer no le hubiera sucedido algo; pero un criado le entregó la carta que acababa de traer el propio.
—¿Qué significa esto? –dijo al ver la letra de su sobrino–. Hija mía, ve aquí una carta de tu primo.
Arabela, más inquieta que sorprendida, estorbó unos instantes a su padre el que la abriera.
—Os ruego, señor –le dijo–, que no me imputéis el acaecimiento fatal que va esa carta a noticiaros. Verdad es que he desterrado a mi primo, pero me es testigo el cielo de que solo he deseado esto y no más.
El marqués, que nada entendió de lo que oía, abrió con presteza la carta y Arabela se escapó a su cuarto, donde, persuadida a que Glanville anunciaba un suceso trágico, se lamentó mucho del efecto cruel de su belleza. Entretanto el marqués leía sosegadamente la carta de Glanville, concebida en estos términos:
Señor
El modo bronco y nada honrado con que he salido de vuestra casa debe graduarme a vuestros ojos culpado de la mayor ingratitud; la gratitud y el respeto, de que soy deudor a vuestras bondades, me fuerzan a enteraros de la causa. Con todo eso, hubiera deseado, para evitar las reconvenciones de mi prima, que la supieseis por otro.
Vuestra estimación, señor, me es apreciabilísima y no me perdonaría jamás el haber tenido la mala suerte de desagradaros. Mi prima ha tenido a bien echarme de vuestra quinta y sus expresiones me han parecido tan humillantes, que desespero de lograr nunca la felicidad que me destinabais
Quedo, señor, vuestro, &c.
Carlos Glanville
Acabada la lectura de la carta pasó al cuarto de su hija con intención de reprenderla, pero, hallándola con los ojos llorosos, olvidó su resentimiento. p. 62
—¡Ay, señor! –dijo a su padre–. Sé que venís a reñirme agriamente, pero os suplico que no agravéis el pesar que me devora: os repito que no le he mandado que muera.
Sonriose el marqués del error con que su imaginación estaba herida y la preguntó si creía que su primo la amaba hasta el extremo de morir por ella.
—Si no me ama hasta ese extremo, no me ama con pasión y mi agradecimiento cesa.
—Arabela, quiero saber por qué delito lo has desterrado de casa tan inhumanamente.
—Porque ha tenido la audacia de decirme que me amaba.
—¡La audacia! ¡Fortísima expresión por cierto! Pues, hija mía, yo le he permitido esa audacia y sabe que no solo deseo que te ame sino que aguardo de tu amistad y obediencia que correspondas a su afecto; y sabe también que he puesto en él los ojos para que sea tu marido... Esta es su carta: córrete de tu descortesía y procura repararla21; discúlpate con él y que esté escrita tu carta cuando se halle preparado a partir el mensajero que ha de llevarla.
Dicho esto, se fue el marqués. Leyó Arabela la carta de Glanville y, no hallándola en el estilo que esperaba, tuvo aumento la aversión que le tenía.
—¡Traidor! –exclamó–. ¿De esta manera pretende desenojarme? ¡Cómo me equivoqué cuando lo creí capaz de morir del despecho*!... ¡Hombre indigno de mí! ¿Piensas que con quejas a mi padre lograrás tus designios? ¿Te pudistes lisonjear de que su autoridad te daría el corazón de Arabela?
Este monólogo, juntamente con otras reflexiones apuraron el tiempo que su padre le había concedido. Este envió a pedir la carta y su hija corrió a rogarle que la dispensara de un paso tan humillante. Con aire severo, y sin responder, la tomó por la mano, la llevó a su despacho y la mandó, con imperio, que escribiese al instante...
—Ya que he de escribir –dijo Arabela sollozando– tened a bien dictarme lo que debo decir.
—Pon disculpas, sin número, y emplea los términos más ejecutivos para obligarlo a volver.
Arabela, forzada por la necesidad, escribió la carta siguiente:
La desdichada Arabela al cruel Glanville
No quiero tener en vos dominio, sin embargo, os mando volver; os hago saber que anulo el decretado destierro y que aguardo vuestra vuelta en compañía del mismo que os entregará esta. No prodiguéis agradecimientos, porque ninguno me debéis; esta llamada es efecto de la obediencia que debo a los mandatos de mi padre.
Arabela
Leyó el marqués la carta y, viendo en ella su propia altivez, no se atrevió a reprenderla.
—El estilo de esta carta –la dijo–, me parece muy raro… ¿Quién te ha enseñado a explicarte así... La desdichada Arabela al cruel Glanville? El sobre de una carta, hija mía, lo lee quien la lleva; muda este, porque no quiero que se sepa que eres desdichada ni que mi sobrino es cruel.
—Suplícoos, señor, que os contentéis con mi primera obediencia: es justo que manifieste yo a mi primo algún descontento, una carta más obligatoria sería baja y la desaprobaríais. p. 63
—Singularísima eres –replicó el marqués.
Y lo que hizo fue incluirla en otra que escribió para ocultar aquel sobre. Prometió a su sobrino buen recibimiento de parte de su prima y le amenazaba con su desagrado si al momento no volvía. El propio anduvo tanto que alcanzó a Glanville antes de llegar al paraje en que había de hacer noche.
No le sorprendió el proceder de su tío, porque lo esperaba; pero sí el recibir carta de Arabela. Leída, dudó si era alguna invención o algún nuevo insulto, estando el sobre en el mismo estilo del otro, que tomó por una bufonada. Leyó después la de su tío y, no pudiendo resistirse a sus solicitudes eficaces, regresó a la quinta. Aguardábalo con impaciencia el marqués, pero lo tenía inquieto la tristeza de su hija...
—Nunca me has dado pesares –la dijo–, puedo creer que aprobarás la elección que hice de Glanville para que sea mi yerno: tiene entendimiento, buena persona, costumbres puras y carácter amable, y, sobre todo esto, es hijo de mi hermana y, de consiguiente, digno de ti, aunque no tenga título22.
—Si permitís, señor, que me explique, os confesaré que repugno el matrimonio; no puedo desear un estado cuyas obligaciones me pongan en el caso de descuidar el atento cuidado que debo a un padre tan tierno como pocos, pero en el concepto de que estéis determinado a contradecir mi opinión sobre este punto, os suplico que me elijáis un esposo que haya merecido vuestra estimación y mis favores por acciones dignas de su nacimiento y por pruebas seguras de su amor; porque, al fin, señor, ¿qué ha hecho Glanville para que le hayáis dado una preferencia tan señalada? ¿Y cuáles son sus títulos para aspirar a poseer mi corazón?... ¡Ah, padre! Apreciad en más vuestra sangre, si amáis mi felicidad... Si…
Interrumpiola el marqués diciéndola secamente que no tenía más paciencia para oír tan ridícula jerigonza.
—¿Qué es, pues, lo que ha de hacer mi sobrino? ¿Qué testimonios de amor necesita darte para merecer tu estimación? Mira, Arabela, que si continúas tratando a Glanville como hasta aquí no te lo perdonaré en mi vida; son tus razonamientos tan mezquinos y tus nociones sobre la felicidad tan falsas que me veo precisado, como padre, a servirte de guía en el acto más importante de tu vida.
Iba a replicar Arabela, pero el marqués la impuso silencio; retirose a su cuarto con el alma pasada de pena y persuadida a que no había en el mundo mujer más infeliz que ella.
idespecho] depecho.
15 ‘se había caído del caballo’.
16 ‘ofreció su mano’.
17 ‘cerca de Vd’.
18 Tersitud es voz no recogida en Aut ni en DLE. Tampoco el CORDE ofrece ningún resultado (Corpus diacrónico del español, https://www.rae.es/banco-de-datos/corde, acceso 15 enero 2022). Debe entenderse como el actual tersidad, «cualidad de terso» (DLE).
19 ‘era consecuente’; consiguiente es el «[modo de hablar] con que se da a entender que uno obra y procede con igualdad y conformidad en sus acciones y dictámenes, y que la resolución o partido que una vez ha tomado, le sigue con empeño y constancia» (Aut).
20 «el correo de a pie, que alguno despacha para llevar una o más cartas de importancia» (Aut., s. v. proprio).
21 ‘avergüénzate’.
22 ‘por consiguiente’.
Chapter X
Contains several incidents, in which the reader is expected to be extremely
interested.
Arabella had spent some hours in her closet, revolving a thousand different stratagems to escape from the misfortune that [49] threatened her, when she was interrupted by Lucy, who, after desiring admittance, informed her that the marquis, having rode out to take the air that evening, had fallen from his horse and received some hurt; that he was gone to bed, and desired to see her.
Arabella, hearing her father was indisposed, ran to him, excessively alarmed; and reflecting on the resolution she had just before taken, of leaving him, which aggravated her concern, she came to his bedside with her eyes swimming in tears. Mr. Glanville was sitting near him; but, rising at her appearance to give her his chair, which she accepted without taking any notice of him, he stood at some distance contemplating her face, to which sorrow had given so many charms that he gazed on her with an eagerness and delight that could not escape her observation.
She blushed excessively at the passionate looks he gave her; and, finding the marquis’s indisposition not considerable enough to oblige her to a constant attendance at his bedside, she took the first opportunity of returning to her chamber. But as she was going out, Glanville presented his hand to lead her upstairs, which she scornfully refusing:
“Sure, cousin,” said he, a little piqued, “you are not disposed to carry on your ill-natured jest any further?”
“If you imagined I jested with you,” said Arabella, “I am rather to accuse the slowness of your understanding, for your persisting in treating me thus freely, than the insolence I first imputed it to. But whatever is the cause of it, [50] I now tell you again that you have extremely offended me; and if my father’s illness did not set bounds to my resentment at present, I would make you know that I would not suffer the injury you do me, so patiently.”
“Since you would have me to believe you are serious,” replied Glanville, “be pleased to let me know what offence it is you complain of, for I protest I am quite at a loss to understand you.”p. 65
“Was it not enough,” resumed Arabella, “to affront me with an insolent declaration of your passion, but you must also, in contempt of my commands to the contrary, appear before me again, pursue me to my chamber, and use the most brutal menaces to me?”
“Hold, pray, madam,” interrupted Glanville, “and suffer me to ask you if it is my presumption, in declaring myself your admirer that you are so extremely offended at?”
“Doubtless it is, sir,” answered Arabella, “and such a presumption, as, without the aggravating circumstances you have since added to it, is sufficient to make me always your enemy.”
“I beg pardon,” returned Mr. Glanville gravely, “for that offence; and also, for staying any longer in a house which you have so genteelly turned me out of.”
“My pardon, Mr. Glanville,” resumed she, “is not so easily gained: time and your repentance, may, indeed, do much towards obtaining it.”
Saying this, she made a sign to him to retire, for he had walked up with her to her chamber. But, finding he did not obey her, for really he [51] was quite unacquainted with these sorts of dumb commands, she hastily retired to her closet, lest he should attempt to move her pity by any expressions of despair for the cruel banishment she had doomed him to. Mr. Glanville, seeing she had shut herself up in her closet, left her chamber, and retired to his own, more confounded than ever at the behaviour of his cousin.
Her bidding him so peremptorily to leave the house would have equally persuaded him of her ignorance and ill-breeding, had not the elegance of her manners, in every other respect, proved the contrary; nor was it possible to doubt she had a great share of understanding, since her conversation, singular as some of her sentiments seemed to him, was far superior to most other ladies. Therefore, he concluded the affront he had received proceeded from her disdain to admit the addresses of any person whose quality was inferior to hers, which, probably, was increased by* some particular dislike she had to his person.
His honour would not permit him to make use of that advantage her father’s authority could give him; and, wholly engrossed by his resentment of the usage he had received from her, he resolved to set out for London the next day without seeing the marquis, from whom he was apprehensive of some endeavours to detain him.
Having taken this resolution, he ordered his servant to have the horses ready early in the morning; and, without taking any notice of his intention, he left the castle, riding as fast [52] as possible to the next stage, from whence he wrote to his uncle; and, dispatching a messenger with his letter, held on his way to London.
The marquis, being pretty well recovered from his indisposition by a good night’s rest, sent for Mr. Glanville in the morning, to walk with him, as was his custom, in the garden; but, hearing he had rode out, though he imagined it was only to take the air, yet he could not help accusing him, in his own thoughts, of a little neglect, for which he resolved to chide him when he returned. But his long stay filling him with some surprise, he was beginning to express his fears that something had befallen him, to Arabella, who was then with him, when a servant presented him the letter, which Mr. Glanville’s messenger had that moment brought.p. 66
The marquis casting his eyes on the direction, and knowing his nephew’s hand: “Bless me!” cried he, extremely surprised. “What can this mean? Bella,” added he, “here’s a letter from your cousin.”
Arabella, at these words, started up; and, preventing her father, with a respectful action, from opening it:
“I beseech you, my lord,” said she, “before you read this letter, suffer* me to assure you that if it contains anything fatal, I am not at all accessary* to it. It is true I have banished my cousin, as a punishment for the offence he was guilty of towards me; but, heaven is my witness, I did not design his death; and if he has taken any violent resolution against himself, he has greatly exceeded my commands.”
[53] The marquis, whose surprise was considerably increased by these words, hastily broke open the letter, which she perceiving, hurried out of the room; and, locking herself up in her closet, began to bewail the effect of her charms, as if she was perfectly assured of her cousin’s death.
The marquis, however, who, from Lady Bella’s exclamation, had prepared himself for the knowledge of some very extraordinary accident, was less surprised than he would otherwise have been at the contents, which were as follow:
My lord,
As my leaving your house so abruptly will certainly make me appear guilty of a most
unpardonable rudeness, I cannot dispense with myself from acquainting your Lordship
with the cause; though, to spare the reproaches Lady Bella will probably cast on me
for doing so, I could wish you knew it by any other means.
But, my lord, I value your esteem too much to hazard the loss of it by suffering you
to imagine that I am capable of doing anything to displease you. Lady Bella was
pleased to order me to stay no longer in the house; and menaced me with some very
terrible usage if I disobeyed her. She used so many other contemptuous expressions
to me that, I am persuaded, I shall never be so happy as to possess the honour you
designed for,
My lord,
Your most obedient, etcetera,*
Charles Glanville.
[54] When the marquis had read this letter, he went to his daughter’s apartment with an intention to chide her severely for her usage of his nephew; but, seeing her come to meet him with her eyes bathed in tears, he insensibly lost some part of his resentment.
“Alas! My lord,” said she, “I know you come prepared to load me with reproaches, upon my cousin’s account; but, I beseech your lordship, do not aggravate my sorrows. Though I banished Mr. Glanville, I did not desire* his death; and, questionless, if he knew how I resent it, his ghost would be satisfied with the sacrifice I make him.”
The marquis, not being able to help smiling at this conceit,* which he saw had so strongly possessed her imagination, that she had no sort of doubt but that her cousin was dead, asked her if she really believed Mr. Glanville loved her well enough to die with grief at her ill usage of him.
“If,” said she, “he loves me not well enough to die for me, he certainly loves me but little, and I am the less obliged to him.”p. 67
“But I desire to know,” interrupted the marquis, “for what crime it was you took the liberty to banish him from my house?”
“I banished him, my lord,” resumed she, “for his presumption in telling me he loved me.”
“That 'presumption,' as you call it, though I know not for what reason,” said the marquis, “was authorised by me. Therefore, know, Bella, that I not only permit him to love you, but I also expect you should endeavour to return his affection, and look upon him as the man [55] whom I design for your husband. There’s his letter,” pursued he, putting it into her hand. “I blush for the rudeness you have been guilty of; but endeavour to repair it, by a more obliging behaviour for the future. I am going to send after him immediately to prevail upon him to return. Therefore, write him an apology, I charge you, and have it done by the time my messenger is ready to set out.”
Saying this, he went out of the room; Arabella eagerly opened the letter; and, finding it in a style so different from what she expected, her dislike of him returned with more violence than ever.
“Ah! The traitor!” said she aloud. “Is it thus that he endeavours to move my compassion? How greatly did I overrate his affection, when I imagined his despair was capable of killing him? Disloyal man!” pursued she, walking about. “Is it by complaints to my father that thou* expectest* to succeed? And dost thou imagine the heart of Arabella is to be won by violence and injustice?”
In this manner she wasted the time allotted for her to write; and, when the marquis sent for her letter, having no intention to comply, she went to his chamber, conjuring him not to oblige her to a condescension so unworthy of her.
The marquis, being now excessively angry with her, rose up in a fury, and, leading her to his writing desk, ordered her, instantly, to write to her cousin.
“If I must write, my lord,” said she, sobbing, “pray be so good as to dictate what I must say.”
[56] “Apologise for your rude behaviour,” said the marquis. “and desire him, in the most obliging manner you can, to return.”
Arabella, seeing there was a necessity for obeying, took up the pen, and wrote the following billet:
The unfortunate Arabella, to the most ungenerous Glanville:
It is not by the power I have over you that I command you to return, for I disclaim
any empire over so unworthy a subject; but, since it is my father’s pleasure I
should invite you back, I must let you know that I repeal your banishment, and
expect you will immediately return with the messenger who brings this. However, to
spare your acknowledgments, know that it is in obedience to my father’s absolute
commands that you receive this mandate from
Arabella.
Having finished this billet, she gave it to the marquis to read, who, finding a great deal of his own haughtiness of temper in it, could not resolve to check her for a disposition so like his own. Yet, he told her, her style was very uncommon. “And pray,” added he, smiling, “who taught you to superscribe your letters thus? ‘The unfortunate Arabella, to the most ungenerous Glanville.’ Why, Bella, this superscription is wholly calculated for the bearer’s information. But come, alter it immediately; for I don’t choose my messenger should know that you [57] are unfortunate, or that my nephew is ungenerous.”p. 68
“Pray, my lord,” replied Arabella, “content yourself with what I have already done in obedience to your commands, and suffer my letter to remain as it is. Methinks it is but reasonable I should express some little resentment at the complaint my cousin has been pleased to make to you against me; nor can I possibly make my letter more obliging, without being guilty of an unpardonable meanness.”
“You are a strange girl,” replied the marquis, taking the letter, and enclosing it in one from himself, in which he earnestly entreated his nephew to return, threatening him with his displeasure if he disobeyed, and assuring him that his daughter would receive him as well as he could possibly desire.
The messenger being dispatched, with orders to ride post, and overtake the young gentleman, he obeyed his orders so well that he came up with him at …, where he intended to lodge that night.
Mr. Glanville, who expected his uncle would make use of some methods to recall him, opened his letter without any great emotion; but seeing another enclosed, his heart leaped to his mouth, not doubting but it was a letter from Arabella; but the contents surprised him so much that he hardly knew whether he ought to look upon them as an invitation to return, or a new affront, her words were so distant and haughty. The superscription being much the same with a billet he had received from her in the garden, which had made him conclude her [58] in jest, he knew not what to think of it. “One would swear this dear girl’s head is turned,” said he to himself, “if she had not more wit than her whole sex besides.”
After reading Arabella’s letter several times, he at last opened his uncle’s; and, seeing the pressing instances he made him to return, he resolved to obey, and the next morning he set out for the castle.
Arabella, during the time her cousin was expected, appeared so melancholy and reserved that the marquis was extremely uneasy. “You have never,” said he to her, “disobeyed me in anyone action of your life; and I may with reason expect you will conform to my will in the choice I have made of a husband for you, since it is impossible to make any objection either to his person or mind; and, being the son of my sister, he is certainly not unworthy of you, though he has not a title.”
“My first wish, my lord,” replied Arabella, “is to live single, not being desirous of entering into any engagement which may hinder my solicitude and cares, and lessen my attendance, upon the best of fathers, who, till now, has always most tenderly complied with my inclinations in everything. But if it is your absolute command that I should marry, give me not to one, who, though he has the honour to be allied to you, has neither merited your esteem, nor my favour, by any action worthy of his birth, or the passion he pretends to have for me; for, in fine, my lord, by what services has he deserved the distinction with which you honour him? Has he ever delivered you from any considerable [59] danger? Has he saved your life, and hazarded his own for you, upon any occasion whatever? Has he merited my esteem, by his sufferings, fidelity and respect; or, by any great and generous action, given me a testimony of his love, which should oblige me to reward him with my affection? Ah! My lord, I beseech you, think not so unworthily of your daughter, as to bestow her upon one who has done so little to deserve her. If my happiness be dear to you, do not precipitate me into a state from whence you cannot recall me, with a person whom I can never affect.”*p. 69
She would have gone on, but the marquis interrupted her sternly:
“I’ll hear no more,” said he, “of your foolish and ridiculous objections. What stuff is this you talk of? What service am I to expect from my nephew? And by what sufferings is he to merit your esteem? Assure yourself, Arabella,” continued he, “that I will never pardon you if you presume to treat my nephew in the manner you have done. I perceive you have no real objection to make to him. Therefore, I expect you will endeavour to obey me without reluctance; for, since you seem to be so little acquainted with what will most conduce to your own happiness, you must not think it strange if I insist upon directing your choice in the most important business of your life.”
Arabella was going to reply, but the marquis ordered her to be silent, and she went to her own apartment in so much affliction that she thought her misfortunes were not exceeded by any she had ever read.
iincreased by] increased to 1752 (1st).
iisuffer] Allow.
iiiaccessary] An accomplice.
ivetcetera] All instances of the abbreviation &c. have been expanded.
vdesire] design 1752 (1st).
viconceit] An idea or thought.
viithou] arch. The second person singular pronoun (i.e. you).
viiiexpectest] The verbal endings -est /-st were used for the second person singular of the present tense.
ixaffect] rare. To profess affection for.