[13] [13] My Lord, said she, ’tis with an unspeakable Trouble I discharge that Trust my Lady has repos’d in me, in giving you a Relation of her Misfortunes; but not to keep you longer in suspence, which I perceive is uneasy to you; I shall acquaint you, that soon after you were gone, my Lady came up into her Chamber, where, as I was preparing to undress her, we heard Monsieur Sanseverin in an angry Tone ask where his Daughter was, and being told she was above, we immediately saw him enter, with a Countenance so inflam’d, as put us both in a mortal Apprehension. An ill use (said he to her) have you made of my Indulgence, and the Liberty I have allow’d you! Could neither the Considerations of the Honour of your Family, your own Reputation, nor my eternal Repose, deter you from such imprudent Actions, as you cannot be ignorant must be the inevitable Ruin of ’em all. My poor Lady was too much surpriz’d at these cruel Words, to be able to make any Answer to ’em, and stood trembling, and almost fainting, while he went on with his Discourse. Was it consistent with the Niceties of your Sex, said he, or with the Duty you owe me, to receive the Addresses of a Person whose Pretensions I was a Stranger to? If the Count D’elmont has any that are Honourable, wherefore are they conceal’d? The Count D’elmont! (cry’d my Lady more frighted than before) never made any Declarations to me worthy of your Knowledge, nor did I ever entertain him otherwise, than might become your Daughter. ’Tis false (interrupted he furiously) I am but too well inform’d of the contrary; nor has the most private of your shameful Meetings escap’d my Ears! Judge, Sir, in what a Confusion my Lady was in at this Discourse; ’twas in vain, she muster’d all her Courage to perswade him from giving Credit to an Intelligence so injurious to her; he grew the more enrag’d, and after a thousand Reproaches, flung out of the Room with all the Marks of a most violent Indignation, But tho’ your Lordship is too well acquainted[14] with the mildness of Amena’s Disposition, not to believe she could bear the Displeasure of a Father (who had always most tenderly lov’d her) with indifference; yet ’tis impossible for you to imagine in what an excess of Sorrow she was plung’d, she found every Passage of her ill Conduct (as she was pleas’d to call it) was betray’d, and did not doubt but whoever had done her that ill Office to her Father, wou’d take care the Discovery should not be confin’d to him alone. Grief, Fear, Remorse, and Shame by turns assaulted her, and made her incapable of Consolation; even the soft Pleas of Love were silenc’d by their Tumultuous Clamours, and for a Time she consider’d your Lordship in no other view
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