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"[Y]et were his offences against me even greater than they are, your example would teach me to blot them all from my mind"

— Sheridan [née Chamberlaine], Frances (1724-1766)

Author

Sheridan [née Chamberlaine], Frances (1724-1766)

Work Title

Memoirs of Miss Sidney Bidulph

Place of Publication

London

Publisher

Printed for R. and J. Dodsley

Date

1761

Metaphor

"[Y]et were his offences against me even greater than they are, your example would teach me to blot them all from my mind"

Metaphor in Context

Miss Cecilia was the first to reply; and stepping up to the bed-side, I, madam, am least injured of all, said she; yet were his offences against me even greater than they are, your example would teach me to blot them all from my mind; therefore, from henceforward, Falkland, you may again look upon me as your sister; but for any other tie, though you were to-morrow at liberty, and all my friends consenting to the union, I should for ever renounce it. Nor should I dare to think of it, replied Mr. Falkland. And you, my dear, said the excellent woman to Miss Arnold, do not you forgive this poor youth? Ah, mama, I have no resentment against him-- I never had--'Tis I who should demand forgiveness of him; if it had not been for me, he might have been happy, so might poor Cecilia, so might you: but I have broke all your hearts! Yet indeed, Orlando, I did not mean to divide you from your love--I had made a resolution to die in silence--I know not what tempted me to break it, unless it be (which I suspect to be the truth) that I was that day seized with a strange distraction. Forgive me, sir, pray forgive me! And she held up both her hands, fixing her sweet eyes with a supplicating look on Mr. Falkland's face. Oh, God! cried he, wringing his hands, 'tis just that my punishment should be proportioned to my crimes! yet I cannot bear this! He turned from her in an agony of grief. She followed him--He will not speak to me, mama! I do not wonder he should be angry, yet I wish he would not hate me! Speak to her, said Mrs. Arnold, her voice broken with sobs--Indulge her, you see how it is with her. Mr. Falkland threw himself at her feet; No, dearest Miss Arnold, said he, Falkland is not altogether such a monstrous prodigy as to hate you! He esteems, he respects, he reveres you more than ever; and if he shuns your sight, 'tis shame, and not resentment, that bids him hide his face. Miss Arnold just lightly pressed with her fingers one of his hands. I am satisfied then, said she; and, with a pleased look, quitted him, and retired again behind the curtain.
(pp. 289-91)