_Mount Pleasant_
The shame and distress natural to every unhackneyed mind, in any
necessity of soliciting a pecuniary favour, had now, in that of Camilla,
the additional difficulty of coping against the avowed desire of Mrs.
Arlbery not to open her purse.
When they arrived at Mount Pleasant, she saw all the horsemen alighted,
and in conversation with that lady; and Edgar move towards the carriage,
palpably with a design to hand her out: but as the Major advanced, he
retreated, and, finding himself unnoticed by Mrs. Arlbery, remounted his
horse. Provoked and chagrined, she sprung forwards alone, and when
pursued by the Major, with some of his usual compliments, turned from
him impatiently and went up stairs.
Intent in thinking only of Edgar, she was not herself aware of this
abruptness, till Mrs. Arlbery, following her to her chamber, said, 'Why
were you so suddenly haughty to the Major, my dear Miss Tyrold? Has he
offended you?'
Much surprised, she answered, no; but, forced by further questions, to
be more explicit, confessed she wished to distance him, as his behaviour
had been remarked.
'Remarked! how? by whom?'
She coloured, and was again hardly pressed before she answered, 'Mr.
Mandlebert--once--named it to me.'
'O, ho, did he?' said Mrs. Arlbery, surprised in her turn; 'why then, my
dear, depend upon it, he loves you himself.'
'Me!--Mr. Mandlebert!--' exclaimed Camilla, doubting what she heard.
'Nay, why not?'
'Why not?' repeated she in an excess of perturbation; 'O, he is too
good! too excelling! he sees all my faults--points them out himself--'
'Does he?...' said Mrs. Arlbery thoughtfully, and pausing: 'nay,
then,--if so--he wishes to marry you!'
'Me, ma'am!' cried Camilla, blushing high with mingled delight at the
idea, and displeasure at its free expression.
'Why, else, should he caution you against another?'
'From goodness, from kindness, from generosity!--'
'No, no; those are not the characteristics of young men who counsel
young women! We all heard he was engaged to your beautiful
vacant-looking cousin; but I suppose he grew sick of her. A very young
man seldom likes a silly wife. It is generally when he is further
advanced in life that he takes that depraved taste. He then flatters
himself a fool will be easier to govern.'
She now went away to dress; leaving Camilla a new creature; changed in
all her hopes, though overwhelmed with shame at the freedom of this
attack, and determined to exert her utmost strength of mind, not to
expose to view the secret pleasure with which it filled her.
She was, however, so absent when they met again, that Mrs. Arlbery,
shaking her head, said: 'Ah, my fair friend! what have you been thinking
of?'
Excessively ashamed, she endeavoured to brighten up. The General and Sir
Sedley had been invited to dinner. The latter was engaged in the evening
to Lady Alithea Selmore, who gave tea at her own lodgings. 'The Rooms,
then, will be quite empty,' said Mrs. Arlbery; 'so we had better go to
the play.'
Mr. Dennel had no objection, and Sir Sedley promised to attend them, as
it would be time enough for her ladyship afterwards.
* * * * *
So completely was Camilla absorbed in her new ideas, that she forgot
both her borrowed guinea, and the state of her purse, till she arrived
at the theatre. The recollection was then too late; and she had no
resource against completely emptying it.
She was too happy however, at this instant, to admit any regret. The
sagacity of Mrs. Arlbery she thought infallible; and the sight of Edgar
in a box just facing her, banished every other consideration.
The theatre was almost without company. The assembly at Lady Alithea
Selmore's had made it unfashionable, and when the play was over, Edgar
found easily a place in the box.
Lord Newford and Sir Theophilus Jarard looked in just after, and
affected not to know the piece was begun. Sir Sedley retired to his
toilette, and Mr. Dennel to seek his carriage.
Some bills now got into the box, and were read by Sir Theophilus,
announcing a superb exhibition of wild beasts for the next day,
consisting chiefly of monkies who could perform various feats, and a
famous ourang outang, just landed from Africa.
Lord Newford said he would go if he had but two more days to live. Sir
Theophilus echoed him. Mr. Dennel expressed some curiosity; Miss Dennel,
though she protested she should be frightened out of her wits, said she
would not stay at home; Mrs. Arlbery confessed it would be an amusing
sight to see so many representations of the dear human race; but Camilla
spoke not: and scarce heard even the subject of discourse.
'You,' cried the Major, addressing her, 'will be there?'
'Where?' demanded she.
'To see this curious collection of animals.'
'It will be curious, undoubtedly,' said Edgar, pleased that she made no
answer; 'but 'tis a species of curiosity not likely to attract the most
elegant spectators; and rather, perhaps, adapted to give pleasure to
naturalists, than to young ladies.'
Softened, at this moment, in every feeling of her heart towards Edgar,
she turned to him, and said, 'Do you think it would be wrong to go?'
'Wrong,' repeated he, surprised though gratified, 'is perhaps too hard a
word; but, I fear, at an itinerant show, such as this, a young lady
would run some chance of finding herself in a neighbourhood that might
seem rather strange to her.'
'Most certainly then,' cried she, with quickness, 'I will not go!'
The astonished Edgar looked at her with earnestness, and saw the
simplicity of sincerity on her countenance. He looked then at the Major;
who, accustomed to frequent failures in his solicitations, exhibited no
change of features. Again he looked at Camilla, and her eyes met his
with a sweetness of expression that passed straight to his heart.
Mrs. Arlbery now led the way to the coach; the forwardness of the Major,
though in her own despight, procured him the hand of Camilla; but she
had left upon Edgar an impression renovating to all his esteem. She is
still, he thought, the same; candid, open, flexible; still, therefore,
let me follow her, with such counsel as I am able to give. She has
accused me of unkindness;--She was right! I retreated from her service
at the moment when, in honour, I was bound to continue in it. How
selfish was such conduct! how like such common love as seeks only its
own gratification, not the happiness or welfare of its object! Could
she, though but lately so dear to me, that all the felicity of my life
seemed to hang upon her, become as nothing, because destined to another?
No! Her father has been my father, and so long as she retains his
respected name, I will watch by her unceasingly.
* * * * *
In their way home, one of the horses tired, and could not be made to
drag the carriage up to Mount Pleasant. They were therefore obliged to
alight and walk. Mrs. Arlbery took the arm of Mr. Dennel, which she did
not spare, and his daughter, almost crying with sleep and fatigue, made
the same use of Camilla's. She protested she had never been so long upon
her feet in her life as that very morning in Knowle Park, and, though
she leant upon her companion with as little scruple as upon a walking
stick, she frequently stopt short, and declared she should stay upon the
road all night, for she could not move another step: and they were still
far from the summit, when she insisted upon sitting down, saying
fretfully, 'I am sure I wish I was married! Nobody minds me. I am sure
if I was, I would not be served so. I'm resolved I'll always have two
coaches, one to come after me, and one to ride in; for I'm determined I
won't marry a man that has not a great fortune. I'm sure papa could
afford it too, if he'd a mind; only he won't. Every body vexes me. I'm
sure I'm ready to cry!'
Mr. Dennel and Mrs. Arlbery, who neither of them, at any time, took the
smallest notice of what she said, passed on, and left the whole weight
both of her person and her complaints to Camilla. The latter, however,
now reached the ears of a fat, tidy, neat looking elderly woman, who, in
a large black bonnet, and a blue checked apron, was going their way; she
approached them, and in a good-humoured voice, said: 'What! poor dear!
why you seem tired to death? come, get up, my dear; be of good heart,
and you shall hold by my arm; for that t'other poor thing's almost
hauled to pieces.'
Miss Dennel accepted both the pity and the proposal; and the substantial
arm of her new friend, gave her far superior aid to the slight one of
Camilla.
'Well, and how did you like the play, my dears?' cried the woman.
'La!' said Miss Dennel, 'how should you know we were at the play?'
'O, I have a little bird,' answered she, sagaciously nodding, 'that
tells me everything! you sat in the stage box?'
'Dear! so we did! How can you tell that? Was you in the gallery?'
'No, my dear, nor yet in the pit neither. And you had three gentlemen
behind you, besides that gentleman that's going up the Mount?'
'Dear! So we had! But how do you know? did you peep at us behind the
scenes?'
'No, my dear; I never went behind the scenes. But come, I hope you'll do
now, for you ha'n't much further to go.'
'Dear! how do you know that?'
'Because you live at that pretty house, there, up Mount Pleasant, that's
got the little closet window.'
'La, yes! who told you so?'
'And there's a pretty cat belonging to the house, all streaked brown and
black?'
'O, la!' exclaimed Miss Dennel, half screaming, and letting go her arm,
'I dare say you're a fortune-teller! Pray, don't speak to me till we get
to the light!'
She now hung back, so terrified that neither Camilla could encourage,
nor the woman appease her; and she was going to run down the hill,
forgetting all her weariness, to seek refuge from the servants, when
the woman said, 'Why what's here to do? Why see, my dear, if I must let
you into the secret--you must know--but don't tell it to the world!--I'm
a gentlewoman!' She then removed her checked apron, and shewed a white
muslin one, embroidered and flounced.
Miss Dennel was now struck with a surprise, of which Camilla bore an
equal share. Their new acquaintance appeared herself in some confusion,
but having exacted a promise not to be discovered to _the world_, she
told them, she lodged at a house upon Mount Pleasant, just by their's,
whence she often saw them; that, having a ticket given her, by a friend,
for the play, she dressed herself and went into a box, with some very
genteel company, who kept their coach, and who sat her down afterwards
at another friend's, where she pretended she should be fetched: 'But I
do my own way,' continued she, 'and nobody knows a word of the matter:
for I keep a large bonnet, and cloak, and a checked apron, and a pair of
clogs, or pattens, always at this friend's; and then when I have put
them on, people take me for a mere common person, and I walk on, ever so
late, and nobody speaks to me; and so by that means I get my pleasure,
and save my money; and yet always appear like a gentlewoman when I'm
known.'
She then again charged them to be discreet, saying that if this were
spread to _the world_, she should be quite undone, for many ladies that
took her about with them, would notice her no more. At the same time, as
she wished to make acquaintance with such pretty young ladies, she
proposed that they should all three meet in a walk before the house, the
next morning, and talk together as if for the first time.
Camilla, who detested all tricks, declined entering into this
engagement; but Miss Dennel, charmed with the ingenuity of her new
acquaintance, accepted the appointment.
* * * * *
Camilla had, however, her own new friend for the opening of the next
day. 'Ah! my sweet protectress!' cried she, throwing her arms about her
neck, 'what am I not destined to owe you? The very sight of that man is
horror to me. Amiable, generous creature! what a sight was yours, when
turning round, I met your eyes, and beheld him no more!'
'Your alarm, at which I cannot wonder,' said Camilla, 'prevented your
seeing your safety; for Lord Newford was with a large party.'
'O, he is obnoxious to my view! wherever I may see him, in public or in
private, I shall fly him. He would have torn from me the loved
characters of my heart's best correspondent!--'
Camilla now felt a little shocked, and colouring and interrupting her,
said: 'Is it possible, Mrs. Berlinton--' and stopt not knowing how to go
on.
'Ah! you know me, then! You know my connexions and my situation!' cried
she, hiding her face on Camilla's bosom: 'tell me, at least, tell me,
you do not therefore contemn and abhor me?'
'Heaven forbid!' said Camilla, terrified at such a preparation; 'what
can I hear that can give you so cruel an idea?'
'Alas! know you not I have prophaned at the altar my plighted vows to
the most odious of men? That I have formed an alliance I despise? and
that I bear a name I think of with disgust, and hate ever to own?'
Camilla, thunderstruck, answered; 'No, indeed! I know nothing of all
this!'
'Ah! guard yourself, then, well,' cried she, bursting into tears, 'from
a similar fate! My friends are kind and good, but the temptation of
seeing me rich beguiled them. I was disinterested and contented myself,
but young and inexperienced; and I yielded to their pleadings, unaware
of their consequences. Alas! I was utterly ignorant both of myself and
the world! I knew not how essential to my own peace was an amiable
companion; and I knew not, then,--that the world contained one just
formed to make me happy!'
She now hung down her head, weeping and desponding. Camilla sought to
sooth her, but was so amazed, so fearful, and so perplext, she scarce
knew what either to say or to think.
The fair mourner, at length, a little recovering, added: 'Let me not
agitate your gentle bosom with my sorrows. I regard you as an angel sent
to console them; but it must be by mitigating, not partaking of them.'
Camilla was sensibly touched; and though strangely at a loss what to
judge, felt her affections deeply interested.
'I dreaded,' she continued, 'to tell you my name, for I dreaded to sink
myself into your contempt, by your knowledge of an alliance you must
deem so mercenary. 'Twas folly to hope you would not hear it; yet I
wished first to obtain, at least, your good will. The dear lost name of
Melmond is all I love to pronounce! That name, I believe, is known to
you; so may be, also, perhaps, my brother's unhappy story?'
Melmond, she then said, believing Miss Lynmere betrothed to Mr.
Mandlebert, had quitted Hampshire in misery, to finish his vacation in
Wales, with their mutual friends. There he heard that the rumour was
false; and would instantly have returned and thrown himself at the feet
of the young lady, by whose cousin, Mr. Lionel Tyrold, he had been told
she was to inherit a large fortune; when this second report, also, was
contradicted, and he learnt that Miss Lynmere had almost nothing; 'My
brother,' added she, 'with the true spirit of true sentiment, was but
the more urgent to pursue her; but our relations interfered--and he,
like me, is doomed to endless anguish!'
The accident, she said, of the preceding morning, was owing to her being
engaged in reading Rowe's letters from the dead to the living; which had
so infinitely enchanted her, that, desiring to peruse them without
interruption, yet fearing to again wander in search of a rural retreat,
she had driven to Knowle; where, hearing the noble family was absent,
she had asked leave to view the park, and there had taken out her
delicious book, which she was enjoying in the highest luxury of solitude
and sweet air, when Lord Newford broke in upon her.
Camilla enquired if she feared any bad consequences, by telling Mr.
Berlinton of his impertinence.
'Heaven forbid,' she answered, 'that I should be condemned to speak to
Mr. Berlinton of anything that concerns or befalls me! I see him as
little as I am able, and speak to him as seldom.'
Camilla heard this with grief, but durst not further press a subject so
delicate. They continued together till noon, and then reluctantly
parted, upon a message from Mrs. Arlbery that the carriages were
waiting. Mrs. Berlinton declined being introduced to that lady, which
would only, she said, occasion interruptions to their future
_tête-à-têtes_.
Neither the thoughtlessness of the disposition, nor the gaiety of the
imagination of Camilla, could disguise from her understanding the
glaring eccentricity of this conduct and character: but she saw them
with more of interest than blame; the various attractions with which
they were mixed, blending in her opinion something between pity and
admiration, more captivating, though more dangerous, to the fond fancy
of youth, than the most solid respect, and best founded esteem.