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Capítulo XVII
Explicaciones necesarias para la inteligencia de los dos capítulos precedentes
Para cumplir con lo prometido, abandonaremos, por algunos instantes a Arabela, casi moribunda, y la transportaremos al paseo en que se hallaba, cuando Glanville nos precisó a dejarla. Nuestra heroína, unidamente con sus dos compañeras (después de haber atravesado el Támesis en un barco) se paseaban a las orillas de este río. La señora *** y sus hijas hablaron mucho de cintas, de encajes, de modas nuevas, de las mejores modistas etc. Arabela, poco divertida con su conversación, las pidió permiso para ir a informarse de una incógnita desgraciada, que la había movido mucho a compasión. La señora ***, en extremo curiosa, quiso acompañarla, con pretexto de humanidad, y anduvieron largo tiempo sin cierto destino. Arabela buscaba las sendas menos trilladas, con la esperanza de que la llevarían al lugar solitario en que suponía que habitaba Cinecia. Era ya la caída de la tarde: la señora *** quiso volver atrás y miró su reloj con desasosiego.
—Estáis inquieta –la dijo Arabela–; ignoro el motivo de vuestra inquietud… ¿Tenéis algún aviso de que…?
En el mismo instante en que se abandonaba a lo impetuoso de su imaginación, alcanzó a ver a muchos hombres que iban a sus haciendas. Primeramente hizo sus efectos el temor, pero luego, entregada a su resolución, echó a correr desaforadamente hacia el río. Sus tres compañeras participaron maquinalmente de su susto y la siguieron. Arabela, creyéndose ya segura, se paró y dijo, con sosegado ademán:
—Demos gracias a la Providencia divina, que nos proporciona un medio heroico para librarnos de este peligro. Podemos inmortalizarnos y adquirir una gloria igual a la de Clelia; hagamos, para libertarnos de aquellos raptores que veis, lo que hizo dicha romana ilustre para sincerarse de los ultrajes de Sexto: si amáis vuestro honor, si aspiráis, como yo, a una gloria inmortal, imitad el ejemplo que voy a daros. p. 233
Acabada esta exhortación, se precipitó en el Támesis para pasarlo a nado. La señora *** y sus hijas dieron desentonadas voces. Roberto, testigo de aquella extravagancia peligrosa, llegó a buen tiempo para socorrerla; tirose al agua, asiola por la ropa y la condujo a la orilla, con todos los síntomas de la muerte. Apareciose a la sazón por allí un barco, llamaron al barquero y este pasó a todos a la otra orilla. Estaba todavía lejos el parque, pero el honrado Roberto cargó con Arabela y tuvo suficiente vigor para ponerla en su casa, donde empezó a dar señales de vida. Resta informar al lector de lo que puede parecerle obscuro en la otra aventura. Carlota había salido tarde de Londres con intención de pasar toda la noche con su prima. Al llegar a Richemont vio a una de las criadas de Arabela, llamada Débora, hablando con un hombre disfrazado, que conoció luego ser Jorge Belmur. Despertáronsela los celos y sospechó al instante que las gracias de su prima habían podido más que las suyas. Pasó en revista la conducta de Belmur y se persuadió a que la había chasqueado, por ser Arabela el verdadero objeto de su amor. Presentáronsela en la imaginación mil ideas de venganza. Llamó a Débora y la asustó con sus miradas y preguntas.
—Engañas a tu señora –la dijo– y te entregaré a su resentimiento si dudas un solo instante hablarme la verdad.
Atemorizada la doncella, confesó que Belmur la había dado mucho dinero, que lo veía con frecuencia y le informaba de cuanto podía importarle; que, en aquel mismo día, la había suplicado que le proporcionase una conversación con su señora y que, sabiendo que Glanville estaba ausente, le había ella introducido en el parque, donde ciertamente la encontraría.
—¡Y qué! –replicó Carlota agitadísima–. ¡Está Belmur en el parque aguardando a mi prima!
—Sí señora, pero iré a decirle que no espere más. Si os dignáis de perdonarme, os protesto que será esta la última vez que la hablaré.
Carlota, que había ya resuelto, no solamente prometió a Débora el perdón, sino una recompensa, con tal que la procurase una conversación con Belmur, bajo el nombre y vestido de Arabela. La moza la aconsejó, sin vacilar, que se pusiese uno de los velos de su ama y que no fuese a encontrarlo hasta muy caída la tarde. Prendadísima Carlota de la estratagema, se felicitó de tener ya un medio seguro para convencerse de la perfidia de su amante y reprochársela, sin que pudiera justificarse. Débora la indicó el paraje en que Belmur estaba oculto; fue luego a traer un velo y Carlota aguardó, con impaciencia, a que cayera más la tarde para ir a buscarlo. Acababa Belmur de ponerse a los pies de Carlota y aún no había dicho la cuarta parte de lo que estudiado traía, cuando llegó Glanville a interrumpirlos del modo que ya hemos contado.
Chapter IX
Which will be found to contain information* absolutely necessary for the right understanding of this history.
Our fair and afflicted heroine, accompanied by the ladies we have mentioned, having crossed the river, pursued their walk upon its winding banks, entertaining themselves with the usual topics of conversation among young ladies, such as their winnings and losings at brag,* the prices of silks, the newest fashions, the best hair-cutter, the scandal at the last assembly, etcetera.
[287] Arabella was so disgusted with this (as she thought) insipid discourse which gave no relief to the anxiety of her mind, but added a kind of fretfulness and impatience to her grief that she resolved to quit them, and with Lucy go in quest of the princess of Gaul’s retreat.
The ladies, however, insisted upon her not leaving them; and her excuse that she was going in search of an unfortunate unknown for whom she had vowed a friendship made them all immediately resolve to accompany her, extremely diverted with the oddity of the design, and sacrificing her to their mirth by sly leers, whispers, stifled laughs, and a thousand little sprightly sallies, which the disconsolate Arabella took no notice of, so deeply were her thoughts engaged.
Though she knew not which way to direct her steps, yet concluding the melancholy Cynecia would certainly choose some very solitary place for her residence, she rambled about among the least frequented paths followed by the young ladies, who ardently desired to see this unfortunate unknown, though at Arabella’s earnest request, they promised not to show themselves to the lady, who, she informed them, for very urgent reasons, was obliged to keep herself concealed.
Fatiguing as this ramble was to the delicate spirits of Arabella’s companions, they were enabled to support it by the diversion her behaviour afforded them.
Every peasant she met, she enquired if a beautiful lady disguised did not dwell somewhere thereabout.
[288] To some she gave a description of her person, to others an account of the domestics that were with her, not forgetting her dress, her melancholy, and the great care she took to keep herself concealed.
These strange enquiries, with the strange language in which they were made, not a little surprised the good people to whom she addressed herself, yet moved to respect by the majestic loveliness of her person, they answered her in the negative, without any mixture of scoff and impertinence.
“How unfavourable is chance,” said Arabella fretting at the disappointment, “to persons who have any reliance upon it! This lady that I have been in search of so long without success may probably be found by others who do not seek her, whose presence she may wish to avoid, yet not be able.”
The young ladies finding it grow late expressed their apprehensions at being without any attendants; and desired Arabella to give over her search for that day. Arabella, at this hint of danger, enquired very earnestly if they apprehended any attempts to carry them away. And without staying for an answer urged them to walk home as fast as possible, apologising for the danger into which she had so indiscreetly drawn both them and herself; yet added her hopes that if any attempt should be made upon their liberty, some generous cavalier would pass by who would rescue them. A thing so common that they had no reason to despair of it.p. 326
[289] Arabella, construing the silence with which her companions heard these assurances into a doubt of their being so favoured by fortune, proceeded to inform them of several instances wherein ladies met with unexpected relief and deliverance from ravishers.
She mentioned particularly the rescue of Statira by her own brother, whom she imagined for many years dead; that of the princess Berenice by an absolute stranger, and many others whose names, characters and adventures she occasionally ran over; all which the young ladies heard with inconceivable astonishment. And the detail had such an effect upon Arabella’s imagination, bewildered as it was in the follies of romances, that espying three or four horsemen riding along the road towards them, she immediately concluded they would be all seized and carried off.
Possessed with this belief, she uttered a loud cry, and flew to the waterside, which alarming the ladies, who could not imagine what was the matter, they ran after her as fast as possible.
Arabella stopped when she came to the waterside, and looking round about and not perceiving any boat to waft* them over to Richmond, a thought suddenly darted into her mind, worthy those ingenious books which gave it birth.
Turning therefore to the ladies, who all at once were enquiring the cause of her fright:
“It is now, my fair companions,” said she, with a solemn accent, “that the destinies have furnished you with an opportunity of displaying in a manner truly heroic the sublimity [290] of your virtue, and the grandeur of your courage to the world. The action we have it in our power to perform will immortalise our fame, and raise us to a pitch of glory equal to that of the renowned Clelia herself.”
“Like her, we may expect statues erected to our honour. Like her, be proposed as patterns to heroines in ensuing ages. And like her, perhaps, meet with sceptres and crowns for our reward. What that beauteous Roman lady performed to preserve herself from violation by the impious Sextus, let us imitate to avoid the violence our intended ravishers yonder come to offer us.”
“Fortune, which has thrown us into this exigence, presents us the means of gloriously escaping. And the admiration and esteem of all ages to come will be the recompense of our noble daring. Once more, my fair companions, if your honour be dear to you, if an immortal glory be worth your seeking, follow the example I shall set you, and equal with me the Roman Clelia.”
Saying this, she plunged into the Thames, intending to swim over it, as Clelia did the Tyber.p. 327
The young ladies, who had listened with silent astonishment at the long speech she had made them, the purport of which not one of them understood, screamed out aloud at this horrid spectacle and, wringing their hands, ran backwards and forwards like distracted persons, crying for help. Lucy tore her hair and was in the utmost agony of grief, when [291] Mr. Roberts, who, as we have said before, kept them always in sight, having observed Arabella running towards the waterside, followed them as fast as he could, and came time enough up to see her frantic action. Jumping into the river immediately after her, he caught hold of her gown and drew her after him to the shore. A boat that instant appearing, he put her into it, senseless, and to all appearance dead. He and Lucy supporting her, they were wafted over in a few moments to the other side. Her house being near the river, Mr. Roberts carried her in his arms to it; and as soon as he saw her show signs of returning life, left her to the care of the women, who made haste to put her into a warm bed, and ran to find out Mr. Glanville, as we have related.
There remains now only to account for Sir George and Miss Glanville’s sudden appearance, which happened, gentle reader, exactly as follows.
Miss Glanville, having set out pretty late in the afternoon with a design of staying all night at Richmond, as her chaise drove up Kew Lane saw one of her cousin’s women (Deborah by name) talking to a gentleman, whom, notwithstanding the disguise of a horseman’s coat and a hat slouched over his face, she knew to be Sir George Bellmour.
This sight alarming her jealousy and renewing all her former suspicions that her cousin’s charms rivalled hers in his heart, as soon as she alighted, finding Arabella was not at home, she retired in great anguish of mind to her chamber, revolving in her mind every [292] particular of Sir George’s behaviour to her cousin in the country, and finding new cause for suspicion in everything she recollected, and reflecting upon the disguise in which she saw him, and his conference with her woman, she concluded herself had all along been the dupe of his artifice, and her cousin the real object of his love.
This thought throwing her into an extremity of rage, all her tenderest emotions were lost in the desire of revenge. She imagined to herself so much pleasure from exposing his treachery and putting it out of his power to deny it that she resolved, whatever it cost her, to have that satisfaction.
Supposing therefore Deborah was now returned, she rung her bell, and commanded her attendance on her in her chamber.
The stern brow with which she received her frightened the girl, conscious of her guilt, into a disposition to confess all, even before she was taxed with anything.
Miss Glanville saw her terror, and endeavoured to heighten it by entering at once into complaints and exclamations against her, threatening to acquaint her father with her plots to betray her lady, and assuring her of a very severe punishment for her treachery.p. 328
The girl, terrified extremely at these menaces, begged Miss Glanville, with tears, to forgive her, and not to acquaint Sir Charles or her lady with her fault, adding that she would confess all, and never while she lived do such a thing again.
Miss Glanville would make her no promises but urged her to confess, upon which Deborah, [293] sobbing, owned that for the sake of the presents Sir George had made her, she consented to meet him privately from time to time, and give him an account of everything that passed with regard to her lady, not thinking there was any harm in it. That, according to his desires, she had constantly acquainted him with all her lady’s motions, when, and where she went, how she and Mr. Glanville agreed, and a hundred other things which he enquired about. That that day in particular he had entreated her to procure him the means of an interview with her lady, if possible; and understanding Mr. Glanville was not at Richmond, she had let him privately into the garden, where she hoped to prevail upon her lady to go.
“What!” said Miss Glanville, surprised. “Is Sir George waiting for my cousin in the garden then?”
“Yes, indeed, madam,” said Deborah. “But I’ll go and tell him to wait no longer; and never speak to him again if your ladyship will but be pleased to forgive me.”
Miss Glanville having taken her resolution not only promised Deborah her pardon, but also a reward, provided she would contrive it so that she might meet Sir George instead of her cousin.
The girl, having the true chambermaid spirit of intrigue in her, immediately proposed her putting on one of her lady’s veils, which as it was now the close of the evening would disguise her sufficiently, to which Miss Glanville, transported with the thoughts of thus having an opportunity of convincing Sir George of his [294] perfidy, and reproaching him for it, consented, and bid her bring it without being observed into her chamber.
Deborah informing her that Sir George was concealed in the summer house, as soon as she had equipped herself with Arabella’s veil, she went into the walk that led to it; and Sir George, believing her to be that lady, hastened to throw himself at her feet, and had scarce got through half a speech he had studied for the purpose, when Mr. Glanville gave a fatal interruption to his heroics, in the manner we have already related.