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The 'torpor of assurance' has not yet settled on the young divine as it has done on too many of the old. There was a modest, a genuine, and an every way reasonable difficulty in this part of Beattie's letter to Rutherford, and I wish much that Rutherford had felt himself put upon his quite capable mettle to deal with the difficulty.
Madame Carolina was not like one of those admirers of English literature whom you often meet on the Continent: people who think that Beattie's Minstrel is our most modern and fashionable poem; that the Night Thoughts is the masterpiece of our literature; and that Richardson is our only novelist. Oh, no! Madame Carolina would not have disgraced May Fair.
Dion Leith did not want to have anything to do with her. She continued to go often to Beattie and Daventry, consolidated her friendship with them. But Dion never met her in De Lorne Gardens. From Daventry he learnt that Mrs. Clarke had been extraordinarily kind to Beattie when Beattie's expectation of motherhood had faded away. Bruce Evelin's apprehension was well founded.
When Cornwallis was in Charlotte in 1780, he served under Captain James Thompson, the gallant leader of the Spartan band against the foraging party at McIntire's farm, seven miles from Charlotte, on the Beattie's Ford road.
William Graham, an Irishman by birth, was one of the early advocates of liberty in Mecklenburg county. He was intelligent and highly respected by all who knew him. He lived on the plantation now owned by Mrs. Potts, about four miles south-east of Beattie's Ford, on the public road leading to Charlotte, where he died at a good old age.
Doubtless, when at college you first studied metaphysical speculation you would have glanced over Beattie's 'Essay on Truth' as one of the works written in opposition to your favourite, David Hume." "Yes, I read the book, but I have long since forgotten its arguments."
"You want me to believe," he said, "that Esther " he stumbled over the word, but at such a pass he would not speak of her more decorously "years ago took Madame Beattie's necklace." Jeff was watching the boys across the flats, critically and with a real interest. "She did," he said. Alston bolstered himself with a fictitious anger. "And you can tell me of it," he blustered. "You asked me."
If it isn't my business, it's Madame Beattie's, and I'll ask her to do it. I'll beg it of her." With that she seemed still more dangerous to him, like an explosive put up in so seemly a package that at first you trust it until you see how impossible it is to handle. He spoke with a real and also a calculated impressiveness. "Miss Lydia, will you let me tell you something?"
"I'm not quite sure myself what I mean, honestly, Dion." "Well, let's suppose it. If it were so, would it be fair?" "I think Beattie's so really good that Mr. Daventry, as he loves her, could scarcely be unhappy with her." Dion thought for a moment, then he said: "Perhaps with Guy it wouldn't be unfair, but, you know, Rose, that sort of thing wouldn't do with some men.
Jeff took off his hat and turned away. He did not mean to tell Lydia. She saw enough of Madame Beattie, without instigation. Lydia needed no reminder to go to Madame Beattie. The next day, in the early afternoon, she was taking her unabashed course by the back stairs to Madame Beattie's bedchamber. She would not allow herself to be embarrassed or ashamed.
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