Would not this procedure bear the
appearance of the basest ingratitude? The shadow of an imputation like
this was more excruciating than the rack. What motive could I assign for my conduct? The truth must not be told. This would be equivalent to supplicating for a new benefit. It would
more become me to lessen than increase my obligations. Among all my
imaginations on this subject, the possibility of a mutual passion never
occurred to me. I could not be blind to the essential distinctions that
subsist among men. I could expatiate, like others, on the futility of
ribbons and titles, and on the dignity that was annexed to skill and
virtue; but these, for the most part, were the incoherences of
speculation, and in no degree influenced the stream of my actions and
practical sentiments. The barrier that existed in the present case I
deemed insurmountable. This was not even the subject of doubt. In
disclosing the truth, I should be conceived to be soliciting my lady's
mercy and intercession; but this would be the madness of presumption. Let me impress her with any other opinion than that I go in search of
the happiness that I have lost under her roof. Let me save her generous
heart from the pangs which this persuasion would infallibly produce. I could form no stable resolutions. I seemed unalterably convinced of
the necessity of separation, and yet could not execute my design. When I
had wrought up my mind to the intention of explaining myself on the next
interview, when the next interview took place my tongue was powerless. I
admitted any excuse for postponing my design, and gladly admitted any
topic, however foreign to my purpose. It must not be imagined that my health sustained no injury from this
conflict of my passions. My patroness perceived this alteration. She
inquired with the most affectionate solicitude into the cause. It could
not be explained. I could safely make light of it, and represented it as
something which would probably disappear of itself, as it originated
without any adequate cause. She was obliged to acquiesce in my imperfect
account. Day after day passed in this state of fluctuation. I was conscious of
the dangers of delay, and that procrastination, without rendering the
task less necessary, augmented its difficulties. At length, summoning my
resolution, I demanded an audience. She received me with her usual
affability. Common topics were started; but she saw the confusion and
trepidation of my thoughts, and quickly relinquished them. She then
noticed to me what she had observed, and mentioned the anxiety which
these appearances had given her She reminded me of the maternal regard
which she had always manifested towards me, and appealed to my own heart
whether any thing could be said in vindication of that reserve with
which I had lately treated her, and urged me, as I valued her good
opinion, to explain the cause of a dejection _that was too
visible_. To all this I could make but one answer:--"Think me not, madam, perverse
or ungrateful. I came just now to apprize you of a resolution that I had
formed. I cannot explain the motives that induce me. In this case, to
lie to you would be unpardonable, and, since I cannot assign my true
motives, I will not mislead you by false representations. I came to
inform you of my intention to leave your service, and to retire, with
the fruits of your bounty, to my native village, where I shall spend my
life, I hope, in peace." Her surprise at this declaration was beyond measure. She could not
believe her ears. She had not heard me rightly. She compelled me to
repeat it. Still I was jesting. I could not possibly mean what my words
imported. I assured her, in terms still more explicit, that my resolution was
taken and was unalterable, and again entreated her to spare me the task
of assigning my motives. This was a strange determination. What could be the grounds of this new
scheme? What could be the necessity of hiding them from her? This
mystery was not to be endured. She could by no means away with it. She
thought it hard that I should abandon her at this time, when she stood
in particular need of my assistance and advice. She would refuse nothing
to make my situation eligible. I had only to point out where she was
deficient in her treatment of me, and she would endeavour to supply it. She was willing to augment my emoluments in any degree that I desired. She could not think of parting with me; but, at any rate, she must be
informed of my motives. "It is a hard task," answered I, "that I have imposed upon myself. I
foresaw its difficulties, and this foresight has hitherto prevented me
from undertaking it; but the necessity by which I am impelled will no
longer be withstood. I am determined to go; but to say why is
impossible. I hope I shall not bring upon myself the imputation of
ingratitude; but this imputation, more intolerable than any other, must
be borne, if it cannot be avoided but by this disclosure. "Keep your motives to yourself," said she. "I have too good an opinion
of you to suppose that you would practise concealment without good
reason. I merely desire you to remain where you are. Since you will not
tell me why you take up this new scheme, I can only say that it is
impossible there should be any advantage in this scheme. I will not hear
of it, I tell you. Therefore, submit to my decree with a good grace." Notwithstanding this prohibition, I persisted in declaring that my
determination was fixed, and that the motives that governed me would
allow of no alternative. "So, you will go, will you, whether I will or no? I have no power to
detain you? You will regard nothing that I can say?" "Believe me, madam, no resolution ever was formed after a more vehement
struggle. If my motives were known, you would not only cease to oppose,
but would hasten, my departure. Honour me so far with your good opinion
as to believe that, in saying this, I say nothing but the truth, and
render my duty less burdensome by cheerfully acquiescing in its
dictates." "I would," replied the lady, "I could find somebody that has more power
over you than I have. Whom shall I call in to aid me in this arduous
task?" "Nay, dear madam, if I can resist your entreaties, surely no other can
hope to succeed." "I am not sure of that," said my friend, archly; "there is one person in
the world whose supplications, I greatly suspect, you would not
withstand." "Whom do you mean?" said I, in some trepidation. "You will know presently. Unless I can prevail upon you, I shall be
obliged to call for assistance." "Spare me the pain of repeating that no power on earth can change my
resolution." "That's a fib," she rejoined, with increased archness. "You know it is. If a certain person entreat you to stay, you will easily comply. I see I
cannot hope to prevail by my own strength. That is a mortifying
consideration: but we must not part; that is a point settled. If nothing
else will do, I must go and fetch my advocate. Stay here a moment."