Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

The British Recluse; or, The Secret History of Cleomira, Suppos'd Dead.

London

1722, 1725

"I got into an Arbor in the Garden, to peruse the dear Contents, which I very well remember, and are too deeply engraven in my Mind, ever to be forgotten."

It was almost Morning when the Ball broke up; and there being no Possibility of my going home till next Day, I pass'd that Time at the Lady's House who brought me out: But, though the Fatigue and Hurry of the Night wou'd at another Season have made me glad of Rest, I had now enough to keep me waking: Lysander's Charms, his Beauty, his Wit, the Declaration he had made me, and the Manner in which I had receiv'd it, gave me sufficient Matter of Reflection: I cou'd not think I had listen'd to any Protestations of Love, from a Man I had never seen before, without an inexpressible Shock to my Modesty; but these Considerations soon gave Place to others even more destructive to my Peace: Lysander was too lovely, and appear'd too deserving, for me to repent, for any long Time, the Complaisance I had shew'd him; and my greatest Trouble was the Fear that I shou'd never see him more. I resolv'd to say nothing to my Mother of what had pass'd, believing, with Reason enough, that she wou'd not only condemn me for Mismanagement, but also take such Measures as shou'd for ever deprive me of the Sight of him: Love taught me a Cunning which before I was a Stranger to; and though I burn'd with Desire to be talking something of my ador'd Lysander, and vent some Part of the Overflowings of my ravish'd Soul, yet I so well dissembled, that at my Return home I never mention'd the least Syllable which cou'd give Suspicion; and contented myself, as well as I was able, with the Belief that Lysander (who, I found by his calling me by my Name had enquired who I was) wou'd find some Means to send to me. Nor did that Hope deceive me: The very next Day, happening to be at a Window, I perceiv'd a Fellow walking backwards and forwards before our House: It presently came into my Head, that there was a Probability he might be a Messenger from Lysander. I observ'd his Motions a good while, and finding he still lurk'd about, with his Eyes continually fix'd on our Door, I made a Pretence to go down; and standing there a little, the Man drew nearer, but with a Circumspection which confirm'd me my Conjectures were true. No body being within hearing, I call'd to him, and ask'd him if he wanted any thing. Madam, (answer'd he softly, and pulling a Letter out of his Pocket,) by the Description which was given me, I believe this is design'd to you. It is, it is, (cry'd I, as soon as I saw the Superscription,) and immediately ran in, too much transported to say any more. I got into an Arbor in the Garden, to peruse the dear Contents, which I very well remember, and are too deeply engraven in my Mind, ever to be forgotten.
(pp. 18-9)

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At least 6 entries in the ESTC (1722, 1722, 1724, 1725, 1732, 1742).

Eliza Haywood, The British Recluse; or, The Secret History of Cleomira, Suppos'd Dead (London: Printed for D. Brown, Junior; W. Chetwood; J. Woodman; and S. Chapman, 1722). <Link to ECCO

Text from Secret Histories, Novels and Poems. In Four Volumes. Written by Mrs. Eliza Haywood. (London: Printed [partly by Samuel Aris] for Dan. Browne, jun. at the Black Swan without Temple-Bar ; and S. Chapman, at the Angel in Pall-Mall, 1725). <Link to ESTC>

03/09/2005