Thursday, August 4.
Ordered the carriage at a quarter past 8,—& it was not ready until a quarter past 9. I in a passion of course. But as soon as it began to flow, it began to ebb.
Got to Malvern at ten, & found Mrs. Boyd & company at breakfast; & after a consultation in Mrs. Boyd’s bedroom on the case, Biscoe versus Boyd, was admitted into Mr. Boyd’s room. Mrs. B showed me Mr. Biscoe’s two last letters to Annie. One of them had as a motto, a quotation from a poem of mine—
Unless you can dream, that his faith is fast,
Thro’ months & years of roving—
Unless you can die when the dream is past—
Ah no! this is not loving.[1]
It certainly is not loving, in Annie Boyd; who calls his letter, expressive of the most passionate attachment, & utmost distress of mind, “another stupid letter”. I never could understand how a delicate woman can even tolerate the attentions of a man whom she does not love: or how a kind hearted woman can wound the feelings of a man whom she does love.
Mr. Boyd received me, as if he were not displeased to do so,—& enquired with an apparent interest about Hope End &c. Presently he desired the servant to beg Miss Boyd to read the paper to him, whenever it came. Would he have had the paper read to him, when he could have talked to me,—at one time? “Yes! Change!—”
I was desired, as soon as the paper came, to go & talk to Miss Boadman—to go down stairs into the breakfast room, & talk to her. I cd. not do it—immediately. I went for a few minutes into the drawingroom, to recover the newspaper!— Down stairs; & sent up again by Mrs. Boyd with Miss Boadman. We talked—as desired!— She told me that Mr. Boyd had heard her read a little of the Greek new Testament, as her father had taught her a little Greek—very little,—which she had neglected. Mr. Boyd had told me before, that he had written some verses upon her, at her request: that he mentioned them to me, because they might possibly be shown to me,—& that I might think him inconsistent in writing upon a person whom he had known for so short a time,—after his professed intention of writing no more. As to his inconsistency—that is not the word I should think of applying. The verses were not shown to me.
More than half an hour passed over the newspaper; & then I was readmitted into Mr. Boyd’s room. I felt very unwilling to read Greek. I fancied that he proposed it as if it were a self infliction; originating from a feeling of general benevolence inclusive of me. I assured him that I did not wish to read. When I did read, my voice faltered in spite of my resolution. I am a fool.
Went down to dinner, feeling wretchedly out of spirits, out of a talking & laughing condition. I could not do more than smile, even when Mr. Boyd’s message was so gravely delivered to his sister. “Mr. Boyd wishes to know if Melindore ever took sallts; if he did, whether they were Epsom or Cheltenham salts.” Melindore is the hero of Miss Boyds folio romance, which she keeps profoundly secret.[2] Her reply—“Tell my brother, that I never answer impertinent questions.” After dinner, when we were in the drawing room,—I could not talk; & the tears were in my eyes oftener than once. Mr. Boyd’s voice first called for Mrs. Boyd; then for Miss Boyd: not at all for me. After nearly 3 quarters of an hour, Mrs. Boyd advised me to go in to him. I went. Heard him repeat some passages from Æschylus, which he was not clear about. I could not help it. The tears rolled down my cheeks. They should not injure him—not even by blistering his book: so they were wiped away very quickly. Perhaps this was the last time of our being together!—
Talking about Annie & Eliza Cliffe—jealousy & insincerity. I would not, & will not, attribute one to one, & the other to the other. He wished that I had never been intimate with Eliza. (She cares more for me than he does!) He told me that he was not aware of any single fault I had; & that Miss Boadman’s disposition (it was paying her, he said, a great compliment) seemed to resemble mine, more than the disposition of any person with whom he was acquainted. I observed “I thought you had found out my faults long ago—particularly after my having been so cross about the Terence”.[3] “Cross! you were not cross”—and then he repented vivâ voce having ever made the application to me, which I had considered in such a light.
There is no use in it. Of one thing I am convinced; that if, from any change of circumstance, one of his visitors were forced to return home immediately,—he would feel more sorrow,—than if I were to leave his neighbourhood for ever. And this is the weight of human friendship! Ashes! Dust is too heavy!—
I wish I had not gone today. I will not go again soon. I said something to him, about depriving his sister of his society: & he begged me not to consider her. He would always be “happy to see me”— I have scarcely patience to write all these details. They make me sick—& mad--
Left Ruby Cottage in the rain. Not a happy day. Oh no!—
I forgot to mention the remarks which were made on Arabel’s no-visit the other evening. Mr. Boyd observed that “if we remained at Hope End, & if I were to die, it was clear to him that my family wd. break off all intercourse with his.” If I were to die!— Not an improbable case; but supposed so coldly!---
Got home at 8. While I was away, they had been showing my Wolf’s Homer to Mr. & Mrs. Martin. Black thinking before sound sleeping, in my room tonight. No letter.
1. “Song,” lines 9–10.
2. To the best of our belief, Miss Boyd’s novel was never published.
3. See BC, 2, 311–312. E.B.B. was greatly upset when H.S.B. sent for the Terence he had used at school, which he had given her in 1829.
