Reader, whatever you may think of the trifling incidents of the last
twenty-four hours, you will find that they involved consequences of
vast importance to the writer of this memoir. Pride induced me to quit
my father's house; revenge stimulated me to an act which brought the
heroine of this story on the stage, for such will Emily Somerville
prove to be. But, alas! by what fatal infatuation was Mr Somerville
induced to leave me my own master at an inn, with ten pounds in my
pocket, instead of taking me with him to his own residence, and
keeping me till he had heard from my father? The wisest men often err
in points which at first appear of trivial importance, but which prove
in the sequel to have been fraught with evil.
Left to myself, I ruminated for some time on what had occurred; and
the beautiful Emily Somerville having vanished from my sight, I
recollected the little fascinating actress from whom I had so suddenly
parted on the preceding night; still I must say, that I was so much
occupied with the charms of her successor, that I sought the society
of the youthful Melpomene more with a view to beguile the time, than
from any serious prepossession.
I found her in the large room, where they were all assembled. She
received me as a friend, and evinced a partiality which flattered
my vanity. In three days, I received a letter from Mr Somerville,
inclosing one from my father, whose only request was, that I would
return home, and meet him as if nothing unpleasant had occurred.
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