Innocent and pure as the inclinations of Mrs. Munden were, it is highly probable, however, that she was not sorry to see the time arrive which was to put an end to that cruel constraint her charming lover had been so longer under; and, while it gave him leave to declare the whole fervency of the passion he was possessed of, allowed her also to confess her own without a blush.

Mr. Trueworth, who had kept an exact account of the time, contrived it so that a letter from him should reach her hands the very next day after that in which she was to throw off her mourning weeds. It was in these terms he now wrote.

'To Mrs. Munden.

Madam,

The year of my probation is expired—I have now fully performed the painful penance you enjoined; and you must expect me shortly at your feet, to claim that recompence which my submission has in some measure merited. You cannot now, without an injustice contrary to your nature, forbid me to approach you with my vows of everlasting love; nor any longer restrain my impatient lips from uttering the languishments of my adoring heart: nor can I now content myself with telling you, at the distance of so many miles, how very dear you are to me. No! you must also read the tender declarations in my eyes, and hear it in my sighs. The laws of tyrant custom have been fulfilled in their most rigorous forms; and those of gentler love, may, sure, demand an equal share in our obedience. Fain would my flattering hopes persuade me that I shall not find you a too stubborn rebel to that power, to whose authority all nature yields a willing homage, and that my happiness is a thing of some consequence to you. If I am too presuming, at least forgive me; but let your pen assure me you do so by the return of the post; till when I am, with a mixture of transport and anxiety, Madam, your passionately devoted, and most faithful adorer,

C. Trueworth.'

Though this was no more than Mrs. Munden had expected, it diffused through her whole frame a glow of satisfaction unknown to those who do not love as she did: she thought, indeed, as well as he, that there was no need of continuing that cruel constraint she so long had imposed upon herself; and hesitated not if she should acknowledge what he before had not the least cause to doubt. The terms in which she expressed herself were these.

'To Charles Trueworth, Esq.

Sir,

I know there is a great share of impatience in the composition of your sex, and wonder not at yours—much less have I any pretence to excuse you of presumption, as you are too well acquainted with the just sensibility I have of your merits not to expect all the marks of it that an honourable passion can require. An attempt to conceal my heart from you will be vain—you saw the inmost recesses of it at a time when you should most have been a stranger there: but what was then my shame to have discovered, is now my glory to avow; and I scruple not to confess, that whatever makes your happiness will confirm mine. But I must stop here, or, when I see you, shall have nothing left to add in return for the pains so long a journey will cost you. Let no anxieties, however, render the way more tedious; but reflect that every step will bring you still nearer to a reception equal to your wishes, from her who is, with an unfeigned sincerity, yours &c.

B. Munden.'

This was the first love-letter she had ever wrote; and it must be owned that the passion she was inspired with had already made her a pretty good proficient that way: but though the prudish part of the sex may perhaps accuse her of having confessed too much, yet those of a more reasonable way of thinking will be far from pronouncing sentence against her—the person of Mr. Trueworth—his admirable endowments—the services he had done her, might well warrant the tenderness she had for him—his birth, his estate, his good character, and her own experience of his many virtues, sufficiently authorized her acceptance of his offers; and it would have been only a piece of idle affectation in her to have gone about to have concealed her regard for a person whom so many reasons induced her to marry, especially as chance had so long before betrayed to him her inclinations in his favour.

Thus fully justified within herself, and assured of being so hereafter to all her friends, and to the world in general, she indulged the most pleasing ideas of her approaching happiness, without the least mixture of any of those inquietudes, which pride, folly, ill-fortune, or ill-humour, too frequently excite, to poison all the sweets of love and imbitter the most tender passion.

As she had not made Lady Trusty the confidante of any part of what had passed between her and Mr. Trueworth; deterred at first through shame, and afterwards by the uncertainty of his persisting in his addresses, that lady would have been greatly surprized at the extraordinary vivacity which now on a sudden sparkled in her eyes, if there had not been other motives besides the real one by which she might account for it.

Mrs. Munden had received intelligence that Lady Loveit was safely delivered of a son and heir; and, what was yet more interesting to her, that Mr. Thoughtless was married to a young lady of a large fortune, and honourable family: letters also came from Mr. Francis Thoughtless, acquainting them that he had obtained leave from his colonel to leave the regiment for two whole months; and that, after the celebration of his brother's nuptials, he would pass the remainder of his furlow with them in L——e.

These, indeed, were the things which at another time would have highly delighted the mind of Mrs. Munden; but at this her thoughts were so absorbed in Mr. Trueworth, whom she now every hour expected, that friendship, and even that natural affection which had hitherto been so distinguishable a part of her character, could not boast of but a second place.

Lady Trusty observing her one day in a more than ordinarily chearful humour, took that opportunity of discoursing with her on a matter which had been in her head for some time. 'Mr. Munden has been dead a year,' said she; 'you have paid all that regard to his memory which could have been expected from you, even for a better husband; and cannot now be blamed for listening to any offers that may be made to your advantage.'—'Offers, Madam!' cried Mrs. Munden; 'on what score does your ladyship mean?'—'What others can you suppose,' relied she gravely, 'than those of marriage? There are two gentleman who have solicited both Sir Ralph and myself to use our best interest with you in their behalf; neither of them are unworthy your consideration; the one is Mr. Woodland, whom you have frequently seen here; his estate at present, indeed, is no more than eight hundred pounds a year, but he has great expectations from a rich uncle: the other is our vicar, who, besides two large benefices, has lately had a windfall of near a thousand pounds a year by the death of his elder brother; and it is the opinion of most people, that he will be made a bishop on the first vacancy.'

'So much the worse, Madam,' said the spiritous Mrs. Munden; 'for if he takes the due care he ought to do of his diocese, he will have little time to think of his wife: as to Mr. Woodland, indeed, I have but one objection to make, but that is a main one; I do not like him, and am well assured I never can. I therefore beg your ladyship,' continued she, with an air both serious and disdainful, 'to advise them to desist all thoughts of me on the account you mention, and to let them know I did not come to L——e to get a husband, but to avoid all impertinent proposals of that kind.'

'It is not in L——e,' replied Lady Trusty, a little piqued at these last words, 'but in London you are to expect proposals deserving this contempt: here are no false glosses to deceive or impose on the understanding—here are no pretenders to birth, or to estate; every one is known for what he really is; and none will presume to make his addresses to a woman without a consciousness of being qualified to receive the approbation of her friends.'

'I will not dispute with your ladyship on this point,' replied Mrs. Munden: 'I grant there is less artifice in the country than the town, and should scarce make choice of a man that has been bred, and chuses to reside always, in the latter; but Madam, it is not the place of nativity, nor the birth, nor the estate—but the person, and the temper of the man, can make me truly happy: I shall always pay a just regard to the advice of my friends, and particularly to your ladyship; but as I have been once a sacrifice to their persuasions, I hope you will have the goodness to forgive me when I say, that if ever I become a wife again, love, an infinity of love, shall be the chief inducement.'

'On whose side?' cried Lady Trusty hastily. 'On both, I hope, Madam!' replied Mrs. Munden with a smile.

'Take care, my dear,' rejoined the other; 'for if you should find yourself deceived in that of the man, your own would only serve to render you the more unhappy.'

The fair widow was about to make some answer, which perhaps would have let Lady Trusty into the whole secret of her heart, if the conversation had not been broke off by a very loud ringing of the bell at the great gate of the courtyard before the house; on which, as it was natural for them, they both ran to the window to see what company were coming.

The first object that presented itself to them was a very neat running footman, who, on the gate being opened, came tripping up towards the house, and was immediately followed by a coach, with one gentleman in it, drawn by six prancing horses, and attended by two servants in rich liveries, and well mounted. Lady Trusty was somewhat surprized, as she never had seen either the person in the coach, or the equipage, before; but infinitely more so when Mrs. Munden, starting from the window in the greatest confusion imaginable, cried, 'Madam, with your leave—I will speak to him in the parlour!'—'Speak to whom?' said Lady Trusty. The other had not power to answer and was running out of the room, when a servant of Sir Ralph's came up to tell her a gentleman, who called himself Trueworth, was come to wait on her. 'I know—I know!' cried she, 'conduct him into the parlour.'

Prepared as she was by the expectation of his arrival, all her presence of mind was not sufficient to enable her to stand the sudden rush of joy which on sight of him bursted in upon her heart: nor was he less overcome—he sprang into her arms, which of themselves opened to receive him; and, while he kissed away the tears that trickled from her eyes, his own bedewed her cheeks. 'Oh, have I lived to see you thus!' cried he, 'thus ravishingly kind!'—'And have I lived,' rejoined she, 'to receive these proofs of affection from the best and most ill-used of men! Oh, Trueworth! Trueworth!' added she, 'I have not merited this from you.'—'You merit all things!' said he; 'let us talk no more of what is past, but tell me that you now are mine; I came to make you so by the irrevocable ties of love and law, and we must now part no more! Speak, my angel—my first, my last, charmer!' continued he, perceiving she was silent, blushed, and hung down her head; 'let those dear lips confirm my happiness, and say the time is come that you will be all mine.' The trembling fair now, having gathered a little more assurance, raised her eyes from the earth, and looking tenderly on him, 'You know you have my heart,' cried she; 'and cannot doubt my hand.'

After this a considerable time was passed in all those mutual endearments which honour and modesty would permit, without Mrs. Munden once remembering the obligations she was under of relieving Lady Trusty from the consternation she had left her in.

That lady had, indeed, heard her servant say who was below; but as Mrs. Munden had never mentioned the name of Mr. Trueworth the whole time she had been with her, and had not any suspicion of the correspondence between them, much less could have the least notion of her affection for a gentleman whom she had once refused, in spite of the many advantages an alliance with him offered, nothing could be more astonishing to her than this visit, and the disorder with which Mrs. Munden went down to receive it.

She was still ruminating on an event which appeared so extraordinary to her, when the now happy lovers entered the room, and discovered, by their countenances, some part of what she wished to know: 'I beg leave, Madam,' said Mrs. Munden, 'to introduce to your ladyship a gentleman whose name and character you are not unacquainted with, Mr. Trueworth.'

'I am, indeed, no stranger to both,' replied Lady Trusty, advancing to receive him, 'nor to the respect they claim:' he returned this compliment with a politeness which was natural to him; and, after they were seated, her ladyship beginning to express the satisfaction she felt in seeing a gentleman of whose amiable qualities she had so high an idea, 'Your ladyship does me too much honour,' said he; 'but I fear you will repent this goodness, when you shall find I am come with an intent to rob you of a companion who, I know, is very dear to you.'

'If you should succeed in the robbery you mention,' answered she, smiling, 'you will make me ample atonement for it by the pleasure you will give me in knowing what I have lost is in such good hands.'

Mr. Trueworth had no time to make any reply to these obliging words; Sir Ralph, who had dined abroad, came in that instant, not a little surprized to find so gay an equipage, and altogether unknown to him, before his door; but on his lady's acquainting him with the name of their new guest, welcomed him with a complaisance not at all inferior to what she had shewn. There requires little ceremony between persons of good-breeding to enter into a freedom of conversation; and the good old baronet was beginning to entertain Mr. Trueworth with some discourses, which at another time would have been very agreeable to him; but that obedient lover having undertaken, in order to save the blushes of his fair mistress, to make them fully sensible of the motive which had brought him into L——e, delayed the performance no longer than was necessary to do it without abruptness.

Mrs. Munden, who, in desiring he should break the matter, had not meant he should do it suddenly, or in her presence, looked like the sun just starting from a cloud all the time he was speaking, and was ready to die with shame; when Sir Ralph said, that since all things were concluded between them, and there was no need for farther courtship, he could not see any reason why their marriage should not be immediately compleated: but Lady Trusty, in compassion to her fair friend's confusion, opposed this motion. The next day after the succeeding one was, however, appointed without any shew of reluctance on the side of Mrs. Munden, and the inexpressible satisfaction of Mr. Trueworth.

He had lain the night before at an inn about eight miles short of Sir Ralph's seat; and, as he had no acquaintance either with him or his lady, had intended to make that his home during his stay in the country: but Sir Ralph and Lady Trusty would not consent to his departure; and all he could obtain from them was, permission to send back his coach, with one servant to take care of the horses.

No proposals having yet been made concerning a settlement for Mrs. Munden, by way of dowry, Mr. Trueworth took Sir Ralph aside the next morning, and desired he would send for a lawyer, which he immediately did—a gentleman of that profession happening to live very near; and, on his coming, received such instructions from Mr. Trueworth for drawing up the writings, as convinced Sir Ralph both of the greatness of his generosity, and the sincerity of his love, to the lady he was about to make his wife.

Expedition having been recommended to the lawyer, he returned soon after dinner with an instrument drawn up in so judicious a manner, that it required not the least alteration. While Sir Ralph and Mr. Trueworth were locked up with him in order to examine it, Mrs. Munden received no inconsiderable addition to the present satisfaction of her mind by the arrival of her brother Frank. After the first welcome being given—'You are come, captain,' said Lady Trusty, 'just time enough to be a witness of your sister's marriage, which is to be celebrated to-morrow.'—'Marriage!' cried he; 'and without acquainting either of her brothers with her intentions! But I hope,' continued he, 'it is not to disadvantage, as your ladyship seems not displeased at it?'—'I assure you, captain,' resumed Lady Trusty, 'I knew nothing of the affair till yesterday, nor had ever seen before the gentleman your sister has made choice of: but love and destiny,' added she, 'are not to be resisted.' These words, and the serious air she assumed in speaking them, giving him cause to fear his sister was going to throw herself away, he shook his head, and seemed in a good deal of uneasiness; but had not an opportunity to testify what he felt any otherwise than by his looks; Sir Ralph and Mr. Trueworth in that instant entering the room. The extreme surprize he was in at the sight of the latter, was such as prevented him from paying his respects to either in the manner he would have done if more master of himself; but Mr. Trueworth, guessing the emotions of his mind, locked him in his arms, saying, 'Dear Frank! I shall at last be so happy as to call you brother.'—'Heavens! is it possible?' cried he. 'Am I awake, or is this illusion!' Then running to Mrs. Munden, 'Sister,' said he, 'is what I hear a real fact? Are you, indeed, to be married to Mr. Trueworth?'—'You hear I am,' answered she, smiling, 'and hear it from a mouth not accustomed to deceit.' He then flew to Mr. Trueworth, crying, 'My dear, dear Trueworth! I little hoped this honour!' Then, turning to Lady Trusty, 'Oh, Madam!' said he, 'how agreeably have you deceived me!'—'I knew it would be so,' replied she; 'but I told you nothing but the truth.'

The extravagance of the young captain's joy being a little over, Mr. Trueworth presented Mrs. Munden with the parchment he had received from the lawyer. 'What is this?' demanded she. 'Take it, take it!' cried Sir Ralph; 'it is no less than a settlement of eight hundred pounds a year on you in case of accidents.'—'I accept it, Sir,' said Mrs. Munden to Mr. Trueworth, 'as a fresh proof of your affection: but Heaven forbid I should ever live to receive any other advantage from it.' He kissed her hand with the most tender transports on these obliging words; after which they all seated themselves: and never was there a joy more perfect and sincere than what each of these worthy company gave demonstrations of in their respective characters. The next morning compleated the wishes of the enamoured pair, and the satisfaction of their friends.

An account of this event was dispatched the next post to all who had any welfare in the interest of the new-wedded lovers. Mr. Thoughtless, though very much engrossed by his own happiness, could not but rejoice in the good fortune of his sister. Sir Bazil, who, since his thorough knowledge of Mrs. Munden, had a high esteem of her, was extremely glad; but his lady was warm even to an excess in her congratulations: in fine, there were few of her acquaintance who did not in some measure take part in her felicity.

Thus were the virtues of our heroine (those follies that had defaced them being fully corrected) at length rewarded with a happiness retarded only till she had rendered herself wholly worthy of receiving it.

Archaic spellings have been retained. Obvious typesetting errors have been corrected and inconsistencies in punctuation and hyphenation have been standardized.