_Traits of Instruction_
The sixth and last week destined for the Tunbridge sojourn was begun,
when Mrs. Arlbery once more took her fair young guest apart, and
intreated her attention for one final half hour. The time, she said, was
fast advancing in which they must return to their respective homes; but
she wished to make a full and clear representation of the advantages
that might be reaped from this excursion, before the period for
gathering them should be past.
She would forbear, she said, entering again upon the irksome subject of
the insensibility of Mandlebert, which was, at least, sufficiently
glaring to prevent any delusion. But she begged leave to speak of what
she believed had less obviously struck her, the apparent promise of a
serious attachment from Sir Sedley Clarendel.
Camilla would here instantly have broken up the conversation, but Mrs.
Arlbery insisted upon being heard.
Why, she asked, should she wilfully destine her youth to a hopeless
waste of affection, and dearth of all permanent comfort? To sacrifice
every consideration to the honours of constancy, might be soothing, and
even glorious in this first season of romance; but a very short time
would render it vapid; and the epoch of repentance was always at hand to
succeed. With the least address, or the least genuine encouragement, it
was now palpable she might see Sir Sedley, and his title and fortune at
her feet.
Camilla resentfully interrupted her, disclaiming with Sir Sedley, as
with everyone else, all possibility of alliance from motives so
degrading; and persisted, in declaring, that the most moderate
subsistence with freedom, would be preferable to the most affluent
obtained by any mercenary engagement.
Mrs. Arlbery desired her to recollect that Sir Sedley, though rich even
to splendour, was so young, so gay, so handsome, and so pleasant, that
she might safely honour him with her hand, yet run no risk of being
supposed to have made a merely interested alliance. 'I throw out this,'
she cried, 'in conclusion, for your deepest consideration, but I must
press it no further. Sir Sedley is evidently charmed with you at
present; and his vanity is so potent, and, like all vanity, so easily
assailable, that the smallest food to it, adroitly administered, would
secure him your slave for life, and rescue you from the antediluvian
courtship of a man, who, if he marries at all, is so deliberate in his
progress, that he must reach his grand climacteric before he can reach
the altar.'
* * * * *
Far from meditating upon this discourse with any view to following its
precepts, Camilla found it necessary to call all her original fondness
for Mrs. Arlbery to her aid, to forgive the plainness of her attack, or
the worldliness of her notions: and all that rested upon her mind for
consideration was, her belief in the serious regard of Sir Sedley,
which, as she apprehended it to be the work of her own designed
exertions, she could only think of with contrition.
These ruminations were interrupted by a call down stairs to see a
learned bullfinch. The Dennels and Sir Sedley were present; she met the
eyes of the latter with a sensation of shame that quickly deepened her
whole face with crimson. He did not behold it without emotion, and
experienced a strong curiosity to define its exact cause.
He addressed himself to her with the most marked distinction; she could
scarcely answer him; but her manner was even touchingly gentle. Sir
Sedley could not restrain himself from following her in every motion by
his eyes; he felt an interest concerning her that surprised him; he
began to doubt if it had been indifference which caused her late change;
her softness helped his vanity to recover its tone, and her confusion
almost confirmed him that Mrs. Arlbery had been mistaken in rallying his
failure of rivalry with Mandlebert.
The bird sung various little airs, upon certain words of command, and
mounted his highest, and descended to his lowest perch; and made
whatever evolutions were within the circumference of his limited
habitation, with wonderful precision.
Camilla, however, was not more pleased by his adroitness, than pained to
observe the severe aspect with which his keeper issued his orders. She
inquired by what means he had obtained such authority.
The man, with a significant wag of the head, brutally answered, 'By the
true old way, Miss; I licks him.'
'Lick him!' repeated she, with disgust; 'how is it possible you can beat
such a poor delicate little creature?'
'O, easy enough, Miss,' replied the man, grinning; 'everything's the
better for a little beating, as I tells my wife. There's nothing so fine
set, Miss, but what will bear it, more or less.'
Sir Sedley asked with what he could strike it, that would not endanger
its life.
'That's telling, sir!' cried the man, with a sneer; 'howbeit, we've
plenty of ill luck in the trade. No want of that. For one that I rears,
I loses six or seven. And sometimes they be so plaguy sulky, they tempt
me to give 'em a knock a little matter too hard, and then they'll fall
you into a fit, like, and go off in a twinkle.'
'And how can you have the cruelty,' cried Camilla, indignantly, 'to
treat in such a manner a poor little inoffensive animal who does not
understand what you require?'
'O, yes, a does, miss, they knows what I wants as well as I do myself;
only they're so dead tiresome at being shy. Why now this one here, as
does all his larning to satisfaction just now, mayhap won't do nothing
at all by an hour or two. Why sometimes you may pinch 'em to a mummy
before you can make 'em budge.'
'Pinch them!' exclaimed she; 'do you ever pinch them?'
'Do I? Ay, miss. Why how do you think one larns them dumb creturs? It
don't come to 'em natural. They are main dull of themselves. This one as
you see here would do nothing at all, if he was not afraid of a tweak.'
'Poor unhappy little thing!' cried she! 'I hope, at least, now it has
learnt so much, its sufferings are over!'
'Yes, yes, he's pretty well off. I always gives him his fill when he's
done his day's work. But a little squeak now and then in the intrum does
'em no harm. They're mortal cunning. One's forced to be pretty tough
with 'em.'
'How should I rejoice,' cried Camilla, 'to rescue this one poor
unoffending and oppressed little animal from such tyranny!' Then, taking
out her purse, she desired to know what he would have for it.
The man, as a very great favour, said he would take ten guineas; though
it would be his ruin to part with it, as it was all his livelihood; but
he was willing to oblige the young lady.
Camilla, with a constrained laugh, but a very natural blush, put up her
purse, and said: 'Thou must linger on, then, in captivity, thou poor
little undeserving sufferer, for I cannot help thee!'
Every body protested that ten guineas was an imposition; and the man
offered to part with it for five.
Camilla, who had imagined it would have cost half a guinea, was now more
ashamed, because equally incapable to answer such a demand; she
declined, therefore, the composition, and the man was dismissed.
* * * * *
At night, when she returned to her own room from the play, she saw the
little bullfinch, reposing in a superb cage, upon her table.
Delighted first, and next perplexed, she flew to Mrs. Arlbery, and
inquired whence it came.
Mrs. Arlbery was as much amazed as herself.
Questions were then asked of the servants; but none knew, or none would
own, how the bird became thus situated.
Camilla could not now doubt but Sir Sedley had given this commission to
his servant, who could easily place the cage in her room, from his
constant access to the house. She was enchanted to see the little animal
relieved from so painful a life, but hesitated not a moment in resolving
to refuse its acceptance.
When Sir Sedley came the next day, she carried it down, and, with a
smile of open pleasure, thanked him for giving her so much share in his
generous liberality; and asked if he could take it home with him in his
carriage, or, if she should send it to his hotel.
Sir Sedley was disappointed, yet felt the propriety of her delicacy and
her spirit. He did not deny the step he had taken, but told her that
having hastily, from the truth of reflection her compassion had
awakened, ordered his servant to follow the man, and buy the bird, he
had forgotten, till it arrived, his incapability of taking care of it.
His valet was as little at home as himself, and there was small chance,
at an inn, that any maid would so carefully watch, as to prevent its
falling a prey to the many cats with which it was swarming. He hoped,
therefore, till their return to Hampshire, she would take charge of a
little animal that owed its deliverance from slavery to her pitying
comments.
Camilla, instinctively, would with unfeigned joy, have accepted such a
trust: but she thought she saw something archly significant in the eye
of Mrs. Arlbery, and therefore stammered out, she was afraid she should
herself be too little at home to secure its safety.
Sir Sedley, looking extremely blank, said, it would be better to
re-deliver it to the man, brute as he was, than to let it be
unprotected; but, where generosity touched Camilla, reflection ever flew
her; and off all guard at such an idea, she exclaimed she would rather
relinquish going out again while at Tunbridge, than render his humanity
abortive; and ran off precipitately with the bird to her chamber.
Mrs. Arlbery, soon following, praised her behaviour; and said, she had
sent the Baronet away perfectly happy.
Camilla, much provoked, would now have had the bird conveyed after him;
but Mrs. Arlbery assured her, inconsistency in a woman was as
flattering, as in a man it was tedious and alarming; and persuaded her
to let the matter rest.
Her mind, however, did not rest at the same time: in the evening, when
the Baronet met them at the Rooms, he was not only unusually gay, but
looked at her with an air and manner that seemed palpably to mark her as
the cause of his satisfaction.
In the deepest disturbance, she considered herself now to be in a
difficulty the most delicate; she could not come forward to clear it up,
without announcing expectations from his partiality which he had never
authorised by any declaration; nor yet suffer such symptoms of his
believing it welcome to pass unnoticed, without risking the reproach of
using him ill, when she made known, at a later period, her indifference.
Mrs. Arlbery would not aid her, for she thought the embarrassment might
lead to a termination the most fortunate. To consult with Edgar was her
first wish; but how open such a subject? The very thought, however, gave
her an air of solicitude when he spoke to her, that struck him, and he
watched for an opportunity to say, 'You have not, I hope, forgotten my
province?... May I, in my permitted office, ask a few questions?'
'O, yes!' cried she, with alacrity; 'And, when they are asked, and when
I have answered them, if you should not be too much tired, may I ask
some in my turn?'
'Of me!' cried he, with the most gratified surprise.
'Not concerning yourself!' answered she, blushing; 'but upon something
which a little distresses me.'
'When, and where may it be?' cried he, while a thousand conjectures
rapidly succeeded to each other; 'may I call upon Mrs. Arlbery to-morrow
morning?'
'O, no! we shall be, I suppose, here again at night,' she answered;
dreading arranging a visit Mrs. Arlbery would treat, she knew, with
raillery the most unmerciful.
There was time for no more, as that lady, suddenly tired, led the way to
the carriage. Edgar followed her to the door, hoping and fearing, at
once, every thing that was most interesting from a confidence so
voluntary and so unexpected.
Camilla was still more agitated; for though uncertain if she were right
or wrong in the appeal she meant to make, to converse with him openly,
to be guided by his counsel, and to convince him of her superiority to
all mercenary allurements were pleasures to make her look forward to the
approaching conference with almost trembling delight.