I hope I am superior to forms. She
is conscious. I can pity her. She is a gentlewoman; and entitled to a
place at any man's table to whom she never was a servant. She never was
mine.
And what, Miss Grandison, could you say in answer? asked I.
What!--Why I put up my lip.
Ungracious girl!
I can't help it. That may become a man to do in such cases as this, that
would not a woman.
Sir Charles wants not delicacy, my dear, said I.
He must suppose, that I should have sat swelling, and been reserved: he
was right not to ask me--So be quiet, Harriet--And yet, perhaps, you
would be as tame to a husband's mistress, as you seem favourable to a
father's.
She then put on one of her arch looks--
The cases differ, Charlotte--But do you know what passed between the
generous man, and the mortified woman and her children; mortified as they
must be by his goodness?
Yes, yes; I had curiosity enough to ask Dr. Bartlett about it all.
Pray, Charlotte--
Dr. Bartlett is favourable to every body, sinners as well as saints--He
began with praising the modesty of her dress, the humility of her
behaviour: he said, that she trembled and looked down, till she was
reassured by Sir Charles. Such creatures have all their tricks, Harriet.
You, Charlotte, are not favourable to sinners, and hardly to saints. But
pray proceed.
Why, he re-assured the woman, as I told you.
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