Eugenia had merely voice to order her back. The notion of having a

figure so insignificant as to be passed, without even exciting a doubt

[who] she might be, was cruelly mortifying. She knew not how to return

to the house, and relate such an incident. She sat down under a tree to

recollect herself.

Presently, however, she saw the stranger turn quick about, and before

she could rise, slightly touching his hat, without looking at her:

'Pray, ma'am,' he said, 'do you belong to that house?' pointing to the

mansion of Sir Hugh.

Faintly she answered, 'Yes, sir;' and he then added: 'I am just arrived,

and in search of Sir Hugh and the young ladies; one of them, they told

me, was this way; but I can trace nobody. Have you seen any of them?'

More and more confounded, she could make no reply. Inattentive to her

embarrassment, and still looking every way around, he repeated his

question. She then pointed towards the great gate, stammering she

believed they went that way. 'Thank you;' he answered, with a nod, and

then hurried off.

She now thought no more of moving nor of rising; she felt a kind of

stupor, in which, fixed, and without reflection, she remained, till,

startled by the sound of her uncle's voice, she got up, made what haste

she was able to the house by a private path, and ascended to her own

room by a back stair case.

That an interview to which she had so long looked forward, for which,

with unwearied assiduity, she had so many years laboured to prepare

herself, and which was the declared precursor of the most important æra

of her life, should pass over so abruptly, and be circumstanced so

aukwardly, equally dispirited and confused her.

In a few minutes, Molly Mill, entering, said: 'They're all come back,

and Sir Hugh's fit to eat the young squire up; and no wonder, for he's a

sweet proper gentleman, as ever I see. Come, miss, I hope you'll put on

something else, for that hat makes you look worse than any thing. I

would not have the young squire see you such a figure for never so

much.'

The artlessness of unadorned truth, however sure in theory of extorting

administration, rarely, in practice, fails inflicting pain or

mortification. The simple honesty of Molly redoubled the chagrin of her

young mistress, who, sending her away, went anxiously to the

looking-glass, whence, in a few moments, she perceived her uncle, from

the window, laughing, and making significant signs to some one out of

her sight. Extremely ashamed to be so surprised, she retreated to the

other end of the room, though not till she had heard Sir Hugh say: 'Ay,

ay, she's getting ready for you; I told you why she would not walk out

with us, so don't let's hurry her, though I can't but commend your being

a little impatient, which I dare say so is she, only young girls can't

so well talk about it.'

Eugenia now found that Clermont had no suspicion he had seen her. Sir

Hugh concluded she had not left her room, and asked no questions that

could lead to the discovery.

Presently the baronet came up stairs himself, and tapping at her door,

said: 'Come, my dear, don't be too curious, the breakfast having been

spoilt this hour already; besides your cousin's having nothing on

himself but his riding dress.'

Happy she could at least clear herself from so derogatory a design, she

opened her door. Sir Hugh, surveying her with a look of surprise and

vexation, exclaimed: 'What my dear! an't you dizen'd yet? why I thought

to have seen you in all your best things!'

'No, sir,' answered she calmly; 'I shall not dress till dinner-time.'

'My dear girl,' cried he, kindly, though a little distressed how to

explain himself; 'there's no need you should look worse than you can

help; though you can do better things, I know, than looking well at any

time; only what I mean is, you should let him see you to the best

advantage at the first, for fear of his taking any dislike before he

knows about Dr. Orkborne, and that.'

'Dislike, sir!' repeated she, extremely hurt; 'if you think he will take

any dislike ... I had better not see him at all!'

'My dear girl, you quite mistake me, owing to my poor head's always

using the wrong word; which is a remarkable thing that I can't help. But

I don't mean in the least to doubt his being pleased with you, except

only at the beginning, from not being used to you; for as to all your

studies, there's no more Greek and Latin in one body's face than in

another's; but, however, if you won't dress, there's no need to keep the

poor boy in hot water for nothing.'

He then took her hand, and rather dragged than drew her down stairs,

saying as they went: 'I must wish you joy, though, for I assure you he's

a very fine lad, and hardly a bit of a coxcomb.'

The family was all assembled in the parlour, except Camilla, for whom

the baronet had instantly dispatched Edgar, and Mr. Tyrold, who was not

yet returned from a morning ride, but for whom Sir Hugh had ordered the

great dinner bell to be rung, as a signal of something extraordinary.

Young Lynmere was waiting the arrival of Eugenia with avowed and

unbridled impatience. Far from surmising it was her he had met in the

park, he had concluded it was one of the maids, and thought of her no

more. He asked a thousand questions in a breath when his uncle was gone.

Was she tall? was she short? was she plump? was she lean? was she fair?

was she brown? was she florid? was she pale? But as he asked them of

every body, nobody answered; yet all were in some dismay at a curiosity

implying such entire ignorance, except Indiana, who could not, without

simpering, foresee the amazement of her brother at her cousin's person

and appearance.

'Here's a noble girl for you!' cried Sir Hugh, opening the door with a

flourish; 'for all she's got so many best things, she's come down in her

worst, for the sake of looking ill at the beginning, to the end that

there may be no fault to be found afterwards; which is the wiseness that

does honour to her education.'

This was, perhaps, the first time an harangue from the baronet had been

thought too short; but the surprise of young Lynmere, at the view of his

destined bride, made him wish he would speak on, merely to annul any

necessity for speaking himself. Eugenia aimed in vain to recover the

calmness of her nature, or to borrow what might resemble it from her

notions of female dignity. The injudicious speech of Sir Hugh, but

publicly forcing upon the whole party the settled purpose of the

interview, covered her with blushes, and gave a tremor to her frame that

obliged her precipitately to seat herself, while her joined hands

supplicated his silence.

'Well, my dear, well!' said he, kissing her, 'don't let me vex you; what

I said having no meaning, except for the best; though your cousin might

as well have saluted you before you sat down, I think; which, however, I

suppose may be out of fashion now, every thing changing since my time;

which, Lord help me! it will take me long enough to learn.'

Lynmere noticed not this hint, and they all seated themselves round the

breakfast table; Sir Hugh scarce able to refrain from crying for joy,

and continually exclaiming: 'This is the happiest day of all my life,

for all I've lived so long! To see us all together, at last, and my dear

boy come home to his native old England!'

Miss Margland made the tea, and young Lynmere instantly and almost

voraciously began eating of every thing that was upon the table.

Indiana, when she saw her brother as handsome as her cousin was

deformed, thought the contrast so droll, she could look at neither

without tittering; Lavinia observed, with extreme concern, the visible

distress of her sister; Dr. Orkborne forbore to ruminate upon his work,

in expectation, every moment, of being called upon to converse with the

learned young traveller; but Sir Hugh alone spoke, though his delight

and his loquacity joined to his pleasure in remarking the good old

English appetite which his nephew had brought with him from foreign

parts, prevented his being struck with the general taciturnity.

The entrance of Mr. Tyrold proved a relief to all the party, though a

pain to himself. He suffered in seeing the distressed confusion of

Eugenia, and felt something little short of indignation at the

supercilious air with which Clermont seemed to examine her; holding his

head high and back, as if measuring his superior height, while every

line round his mouth marked that ridicule was but suppressed by

contempt.

When Sir Hugh, at length, observed that the young traveller uttered not

a syllable, he exclaimed: 'Lord help us! what fools it makes of us,

being overjoyed! here am I talking all the talk to myself, while my

young scholar says nothing! which I take to be owing to my speaking only

English; which, however, I should not do, if it was not for the

misfortune of knowing no other, which I can't properly call a fault,

being out of no idleness, as that gentleman can witness for me; for I'll

warrant nobody's taken more pains; but our heads won't always do what we

want.'

He then gave a long and melancholy detail of his studies and their

failure.

When the carriage arrived with Camilla, young Lynmere loitered to a

window, to look at it; Eugenia arose, meaning to seize the opportunity

to escape to her room; but seeing him turn round upon her moving, she

again sat down, experiencing, for the first time, a sensation of shame

for her lameness, which, hitherto, she had regularly borne with

fortitude, when she had not forgotten from indifference: neither did she

feel spirits to exhibit, again, before his tall and strikingly elegant

figure, her diminutive little person.

Camilla entered with traces of a disordered mind too strongly marked in

her countenance to have escaped observation, had she been looked at with

any attention. But Eugenia and Lynmere ingrossed all eyes and all

thoughts. Even herself, at first sight of the husband elect of her

sister, lost, for a moment, all personal consideration, and looked at

him only with the interesting idea of the future fate of Eugenia. But it

was only for a moment; when she turned round, and saw nothing of Edgar,

when her uncle's inquiry what had become of him convinced her he was

gone elsewhere, her heart sunk, she felt sick, and would have glided out

of the room, had not Sir Hugh, thinking her faint for want of her

breakfast, begged Miss Margland to make her some fresh tea; adding, 'As

this is a day in which I intend us all to be happy alike, I beg nobody

will go out of the room, for the sake of our enjoying it all together.'

This summons to happiness produced the usual effect of such calls; a

general silence, succeeded by a general yawning, and a universal secret

wish of separation, to the single exception of Sir Hugh, who, after a

pause, said, 'Why nobody speaks but me! which I really think odd enough.

However, my dear nephew, if you don't care for our plain English

conversation, which, indeed, after all your studies, one can't much

wonder at, nobody can be against you and the Doctor jabbering together a

little of your Greek and Latin.'

Lynmere, letting fall his bread upon the table, leaned back in his

chair, and, sticking his hands in his side, looked at his uncle with an

air of astonishment.

'Nay,' continued the baronet, 'I don't pretend I should be much the

wiser for it; however, it's what I've no objection to hear: so come,

Doctor! you're the oldest; break the ice!'

A verse of Horace with which Dr. Orkborne was opening his answer, was

stopt short, by the eager manner in which Lynmere re-seized his bread

with one hand, while, with the other, to the great discomposure of the

exact Miss Margland, he stretched forth for the tea-pot, to pour out a

bason of tea; not ceasing the libation till the saucer itself,

overcharged, sent his beverage in trickling rills from the tablecloth to

the floor.

The ladies all moved some paces from the table, to save their clothes;

and Miss Margland reproachfully inquired if she had not made his tea to

his liking.

'Don't mind it, I beg, my dear boy,' cried Sir Hugh; 'a little slop's

soon wiped up; and we're all friends: so don't let that stop your

Latin.'

Lynmere, noticing neither the Latin, the mischief, nor the consolation,

finished his tea in one draught, and then said: 'Pray, sir, where do you

keep all your newspapers?'

'Newspapers, my dear nephew? I've got no newspapers: what would you have

us do with a mere set of politics, that not one of us understand, in

point of what may be their true drift; now we're all met together

o'purpose to be comfortable?'

'No newspapers, sir?' cried Lynmere, rising, and vehemently ringing the

bell; and, with a scornful laugh, adding, half between his teeth, 'Ha!

ha! live in the country without newspapers! a good joke, faith!'

A servant appearing, he gave orders for all the morning papers that

could be procured.

Sir Hugh looked much amazed; but presently, starting up, said, 'My dear

nephew, I believe I've caught your meaning, at last; for if you mean, as

I take for granted, that we're all rather dull company, why I'll take

your hint, and leave you and a certain person together, to make a better

acquaintance; which you can't do so well while we're all by, on account

of modesty.'

Eugenia, frightened almost to sickness, [was] caught by her two sisters;

and Mr. Tyrold, tenderly compassionating her apprehensions, whispered to

Sir Hugh to dispense with a _tête-à-tête_ so early: and, taking her

hand, accompanied her himself to her room, composing, and re-assuring

her by the way.

Sir Hugh, though vexed, then followed, to issue some particular orders;

the rest of the party dispersed, and young Lynmere remained with his

sister.

Walking on tiptoe to the door, he shut it, and put his ear to the

key-hole, till he no longer heard any footstep. Turning then hastily

round, he flung himself, full length, upon a sofa, and burst into so

violent a fit of laughter, he was forced to hold his sides.

Indiana, tittering, said, 'Well, brother, how do you like her?'

'Like her!' he repeated, when able to speak; 'why the old gentleman

doats! He can never, else, seriously suppose I'll marry her.'

'He! he! he! yes, but he does, indeed, brother. He's got every thing

ready.'

'Has he, faith?' cried Lynmere, again rolling on the sofa, almost

suffocated with violent laughter: from which, suddenly recovering, he

started up to stroam to a large looking-glass, and, standing before it,

in an easy and most assured attitude, 'Much obliged to him, 'pon

honour!' he exclaimed: 'Don't you think,' turning carelessly, yet in an

elegant position, round to his sister, 'don't you think I am, Indiana?'

'Me, brother? la! I'm sure I think she's the ugliest little fright, poor

thing! I ever saw in the world, poor thing! such a little, short,

dumpty, hump backed, crooked, limping figure of a fright ... poor

thing!'

'Yes, yes,' cried he, changing his posture, but still undauntedly

examining himself before the glass, 'he has taken amazing care of me, I

confess; matched me most exactly!'

Then sitting down, as if to consider the matter more seriously, he took

Indiana by the arm, and, with some displeasure, said, 'Why, what does

the old quoz mean? Does he want me to toss him in a blanket?'

Indiana tittered more than ever at this idea, till her brother angrily

demanded of her, why she had not written herself some description of

this young Hecate, to prepare him for her sight? Sir Hugh having merely

given him to understand that she was not quite beautiful.

Indiana had no excuse to plead, but that she did not think of it. She

had, indeed, grown up with an aversion to writing, in common with

whatever else gave trouble, or required attention; and her

correspondence with her brother rarely produced more than two letters in

a year, which were briefly upon general topics, and read by the whole

family.

She now related to him the history of the will, and the vow, which only

in an imperfect, and but half-credited manner had reached him.

His laughter than gave place to a storm of rage. He called himself

ruined, blasted, undone; and abused Sir Hugh as a good-for-nothing

dotard, defrauding him of his just rights and expectations.

'Why, that's the reason,' said Indiana, 'he wants to marry you to cousin

Eugenia; because, he says, it's to make you amends.'

This led him to a rather more serious consideration of the affair; for,

he protested, the money was what he could not do without. Yet, again

parading to the glass, 'What a shame, Indiana,' he cried, 'what a shame

would it be to make such a sacrifice? If he'll only pay a trifle of

money for me, and give me a few odd hundreds to begin with, I'll hold

him quit of all else, so he'll but quit me of that wizen little stump.'

A newspaper, procured from the nearest public house, being now brought,

he pinched Indiana by the chin, said she was the finest girl he had seen

in England, and whistled off to his appointed chamber.

Clermont Lynmere so entirely resembled his sister in person, that now,

in his first youth, he might almost have been taken for her, even

without change of dress: but the effect produced upon the beholders bore

not the same parallel: what in her was beauty in its highest delicacy,

in him seemed effeminacy in its lowest degradation. The brilliant

fairness of his forehead, the transparent pink of his cheeks, the

pouting vermillion of his lips, the liquid lustre of his languishing

blue eyes, the minute form of his almost infantine mouth, and the snowy

whiteness of his small hands and taper fingers, far from bearing the

attraction which, in his sister, rendered them so lovely, made him

considered by his own sex as an unmanly fop, and by the women, as too

conceited to admire any thing but himself.

With respect to his understanding, his superiority over his sister was

rather in education than in parts, and in practical intercourse with the

world, than in any higher reasoning faculties. His character, like his

person, wanted maturing, the one being as distinct from intellectual

decision, as the other from masculine dignity. He had youth without

diffidence, sprightliness without wit, opinion without judgment, and

learning without knowledge. Yet, as he contemplated his fine person in

the glass, he thought himself without one external fault; and, early

cast upon his own responsibility, was not conscious of one mental

deficiency.

CHAPTER IX

_Offs and Ons_

Mr. Tyrold left Eugenia to her sisters, unwilling to speak of Lynmere

till he had seen something more of him. Sir Hugh, also, was going, for

he had no time, he said, to lose in his preparations: but Eugenia,

taking his arm, besought that nothing of that kind might, at present, be

mentioned.

'Don't trouble yourself about that, my dear,' he answered; 'for it's

what I take all into my own hands; your cousin being a person that don't

talk much; by which, how can any thing be brought forward, if nobody

interferes? A girl, you know, my dear, can't speak for herself, let her

wish it never so much.'

'Alas!' said Eugenia, when he was gone, 'how painfully am I situated!

Clermont will surely suppose this precipitance all mine; and already,

possibly, concludes it is upon my suggestion he has thus prematurely

been called from his travels, and impeded in his praise-worthy ambition

of studying the laws, manners, and customs of the different nations of

Europe!'

The wan countenance of Camilla soon, however, drew all observation upon

herself, and obliged her to narrate the cruel adventure of the morning.

The sisters were both petrified by the account of Sir Sedley; and their

compassion for his expected despair was changed into disgust at his

insulting impertinence. They were of opinion that his bird and his

letters should immediately be returned; and their horror of any debt

with a character mingling such presumption with such levity, made

Eugenia promise that, as soon as she was mistress of so much money, she

would send him, in the name of Lionel, his two hundred pounds.

The bird, therefore, by Tom Hodd, was instantly conveyed to

Clarendel-Place; but the letters Camilla retained, till she could first

shew them to Edgar, ... if this event had not lost him to her for ever,

and if he manifested any desire of an explanation.

* * * * *

Edgar himself, meanwhile, in a paroxysm of sudden misery, and torturing

jealousy, had galloped furiously to the rector of Cleves.

'O, Doctor Marchmont!' he cried, 'what a tale have I now to unfold!

Within these last twenty-four hours I have been the most wretched ...

the happiest ... and again the most agonized of human beings! I have

thought Camilla bestowed upon another, ... I have believed her, ... oh,

Doctor!... my own!... I have conceived myself at the summit of all

earthly felicity!... I find myself, at this moment deluded and undone!'

He then detailed the account, calling upon the Doctor to unravel to him

the insupportable ænigma of his destiny; to tell him for what purpose

Camilla had shewn him a tenderness so bewitching, at the very time she

was carrying on a clandestine intercourse with another? with a man, who,

though destitute neither of wit nor good qualities, it was impossible

she should love, since she was as incapable of admiring as of

participating in his defects? To what incomprehensible motives attribute

such incongruities? Why accept and suffer her friends to accept him, if

engaged to Sir Sedley? why, if seriously meaning to be his, this secret

correspondence? Why so early, so private, so strange a meeting? 'Whence,

Doctor Marchmont, the daring boldness of his seizing her hand? whence

the never-to-be-forgotten licence with which he presumed to lift it to

his lips, ... and there hardily to detain it, so as never man durst do,

whose hopes were not all alive, from his own belief in their

encouragement! explain, expound to me this work of darkness and

amazement; tell me why, with every appearance of the most artless

openness, I find her thus eternally disingenuous and unintelligible?

why, though I have cast myself wholly into her power, she retains all

her mystery ... she heightens it into deceit next perjury?'

'Ask me, my dear young friend, why the sun does not give night, and the

moon day; then why women practise coquetry. Alas! my season for surprise

has long been passed! They will rather trifle, even with those they

despise, than be candid even with those they respect. The young baronet,

probably, has been making his court to her, or she has believed such was

his design; but as you first came to the point, she would not hazard

rejecting you, while uncertain if he were serious. She was, possibly,

putting him to the test, by the account of your declaration, at the

moment of your unseasonable intrusion.'

'If this, Doctor, is your statement, and if your statement is just, in

how despicable a lottery have I risked the peace of my life! You

suppose then ... that, if sure of Sir Sedley ... I am discarded?'

'You know what I think of your situation: can I, when to yet more riches

I add a title, suppose that of Sir Sedley less secure?'

The shuddering start, the distracted look of Edgar, with his hand

clapped to his burning forehead, now alarmed the Doctor; who endeavoured

to somewhat soften his sentence, dissuading him against any immediate

measures, and advising him to pass over these first moments of emotion,

and then coolly to suffer inquiry to take place of decision. But Edgar

could not hear him; he shook hands with him, faintly smiled, as an

apology for not speaking; and, hurrying off, without waiting for his

servant, galloped towards the New Forest: leaving his absence from

Cleves to declare his defection, and bent only to fly from Camilla, and

all that belonged to her.

All, however, that belonged to Camilla was precisely what followed him;

pursued him in every possible form, clung to his heart-strings, almost

maddened his senses. He could not bear to reflect; retrospection was

torture, anticipation was horror. To lose thus, without necessity,

without calamity, the object of his dearest wishes, ... to lose her from

mere declension of esteem....

'Any inevitable evil,' he cried, 'I could have sustained; any blow of

fortune, however severe; any stroke of adversity, however terrible; ...

but this ... this error of all my senses ... this deception of all my

hopes ... this extinction of every feeling I have cherished'--

He rode on yet harder, leaping over every thing, thoughtless rather than

fearless of every danger he could encounter, and galloping with the

speed and violence of some pursuit, though wholly without view, and

almost without consciousness; as if, hoping by flight, to escape from

the degenerate portrait of Camilla: but its painter was his own

imagination, and mocked the attempt.

From the other side of a five-barred gate, which, with almost frantic

speed, he was approaching with a view to clear, a voice halloo'd to stop

him; and, at the same time, a man who was leading one horse, and riding

another, dismounted, and called out, 'Why, as sure as I'm alive, it's

'Squire Mandlebert!'

Edgar now, perceiving Jacob, was going to turn back to avoid him; but,

restraining this first movement, faintly desired him to stand by, as he

had not a moment to lose.

'Good lack!' cried Jacob, with the freedom of an old servant, who had

known him from a boy; 'why, I would not but have happened to come this

way for never so much! why you might have broke your neck, else! Leap

such a gate as this here? why, I can't let you do no such a thing! Miss

Camilla's like a child of my own, as one may say; and she'll never hold

up her head again, I'll be bound for it, if you should come to any harm;

and, as to poor old master! 'twould go nigh to break his heart.'

Struck with words which, from so faithful an old servant, could not but

be touching, Edgar was brought suddenly to himself, and felt the claim

of the Tyrold family for a conduct more guarded. He endeavoured to put

his own feelings apart, and consider how best he might spare those of

the friends of Camilla; those of Camilla herself he concluded to be out

of his reach, except as they might simply relate to the female pride and

vanity of refusing rather than being given up.

He paused, now, to weigh how he might obviate any offence; and, after

first resolving to write a sort of general leave-taking, and, next,

seeing the almost insuperable objections to whatever he could state,

determined upon gaining time for deliberation, by merely commissioning

Jacob to carry a message to Cleves, that some sudden affairs called him,

for the present, to a distant part of the country. This, at such a

period, would create a surprise that might lead the way to what would

follow: and Camilla, who could not, he thought, be much astonished,

might then take her own measures for the defection she would see reason

to expect.

But Jacob resisted bearing the intelligence: 'Good lack, sir,' he cried,

'what have you got in your head? something that will do you no good,

I'll be bound, by the look of your eyes, which look as big as if they

was both going to drop out; you'd better come yourself and tell 'em

what's the matter, and speak a word to poor Miss Camilla, or she'll

never believe but what some ill has betided you. Why we all knew about

it, fast enough, before our master told us; servants have eyes as well

as their masters; only Mary will have it she found it out at the first,

which an't true, for I saw it by the time you'd been a week in the

house; and if you'll take my word, squire, I don't think there's such

another heart in the world as Miss Camilla's, except just my own old

master's.'

Edgar leant against his horse, neither speaking nor moving, yet

involuntarily listening, while deeply sighing.

'What a power of good she'll do,' continued Jacob, 'when she's mistress

of Beech Park! I warrant she'll go about, visiting the poor, and making

them clothes, and broths, and wine possets, and baby-linen, all day

long. She has done it at Etherington quite from a child; and when she

had nothing to give 'em, she used to take her thread papers and needle

books, and sit down and work for them, and carry them bits and scraps of

things to help 'em to patch their gowns. Why when she's got your fine

fortunes, she'll bring a blessing upon the whole county.'

Edgar felt touched; his wrath was softened into tenderness, and he

ejaculated to himself: 'Such, indeed, I thought Camilla! active in

charity, gentle in good works!... I thought that in putting my fortune

into her hands, I was serving the unhappy, ... feeding the indigent, ...

reviving the sick!'

'Master,' continued Jacob, 'took a fancy to her from the very first, as

well as I; and when master said she was coming to live with us, I asked

to make it a holiday for all our folks, and master was as pleased as I.

But nobody'd think what a tender heart she's got of her own, without

knowing her, because of her singing, and laughing, and dancing so,

except when old Miss Margland's in the way, who's what Mr. Lionel calls

a kill-joy at any time. Howbeit, I'll take special care she shan't be by

when I tell her of my stopping you from breaking your neck here; but I

wish you could be in a corner yourself, to peep at her, without her

knowing it; I'll warrant you she'll give me such a smile, you'd be fit

to eat her!'

Shaken once more in every resolution, because uncertain in every

opinion, Edgar found the indignant desperation which had seized him

begin to subside, and his mind again become assailable by something

resembling hope. Almost instinctively he remounted his horse, and almost

involuntarily ... drawn on by hearkening to the praise of Camilla, and

fascinated by the details made by Jacob of her regard, accompanied him

back to Cleves.

As they rode into the park, and while he was earnestly endeavouring to

form some palliation, by which he might exculpate what seemed to him so

guilty in the strange meeting and its strange circumstances, he

perceived Camilla herself, walking upon the lawn. He saw she had

observed him, and saw, from her air, she seemed irresolute if to

re-enter the house, or await him.

Jacob, significantly pointing her out, offered to shew the effect he

could produce by what he could relate; but Edgar, giving him the charge

of his horse, earnestly besought him to retire in quiet, and to keep his

opinions and experiments to himself.

Each now, separately, and with nearly equal difficulty, strove to attain

fortitude to seek an explanation. They approached each other; Camilla

with her eyes fixed upon the ground, her air embarrassed, and her cheeks

covered with blushes; Edgar with quick, but almost tottering steps, his

eyes wildly avoiding hers, and his complexion pale even to

indisposition.

When they were met within a few yards, they stopt; Camilla still without

courage to look up, and Edgar striving to speak, but finding no passage

for his voice. Camilla, then, ashamed of her situation, raised her eyes,

and forced herself to say, 'Have you been into the house? Have you seen

my cousin Lynmere?'

'No ... madam.'

Struck with a cold formality that never before, from Edgar, had reached

her ears, and shocked by the sight of his estranged and altered

countenance, with the cruel consciousness that appearances authorised

the most depreciating suspicions, she advanced, and holding out her

hand, 'Edgar,' she gently cried, 'are you ill? or only angry?'

'O Camilla!' he answered, 'can you deign to use to me such a word? can

you distort my dearest affections, convulse my fairest hopes, eradicate

every power of happiness ... yet speak with so much sweetness ... yet

look at me with such mildness? such softness ... I had almost said ...

such kindness?'

Deeply affected, she could hardly stand. He had taken her offered hand,

but in a manner so changed from the same action the preceding day, that

she scarce knew if he touched while he held it, scarce felt that he

relinquished, as almost immediately she withdrew it.

But her condescension at this moment was rather a new torment than any

solace to him. The hand which she proferred, and which the day before he

had received as the token of permanent felicity, he had now seen in the

possession of another, with every licence, every apparent mark of

permitted rapture in which he had been indulged himself. He knew not to

whom it of right belonged; and the doubt not merely banished happiness,

but mingled resentment with misery.

'I see,' cried she, after a mortified pause; 'you have lost your good

opinion of me ... I can only, therefore....' She stopt, but his

melancholy silence was a confirmation of her suggestion that offended

her into more exertion, and, with sensibility raised into dignity, she

added, 'only hope your intended tour to the Continent may take place

without delay!'

She would then have walked on to the house; but following her, 'Is all

over?' he cried, 'and is it thus, Camilla, we part?'

'Why not?' said she, suppressing a sigh, yet turning back.

'What a question! cruel Camilla! Is this all the explanation you allow

me?'

'What other do you wish?'

'All!... every other!... that meeting ... those letters....'

'If you have any curiosity yet remaining ... only name what you desire.'

'Are you indeed so good?' cried he, in a voice that shewed his soul

again melting; 'those letters, then....'

'You shall have them ... every one!' she cried, with alacrity; and

instantly taking out her pocket-book, presented him with the prepared

packet.

Penetrated by this unexpected openness and compliance, he snatched her

hand, with intent to press it to his lips; but again the recollection he

had seen that liberty accorded to Sir Sedley, joined to the sight of his

writing, checked him; he let it go; bowed his thanks with a look of

grateful respect, and attempting no more to stop her, walked towards the

summer-house, to peruse the letters.

CHAPTER X

_Resolutions_

The sound of the dinner-bell, which rang in the ears of Edgar before he

reached his intended retreat, would have been unnoticed, if not seconded

by a message from Sir Hugh, who had seen him from his window.

Compelled to obey, though in a state of suspense almost intolerable, he

put up the important little packet, and repaired to the dining parlour;

where, though none were equally disturbed with himself, no one was at

ease. Young Lynmere, under an appearance of mingled assurance and

apathy, the effect of acquired conceit, playing upon natural insipidity,

was secretly tormented with the rueful necessity of sacrificing either a

noble fortune, or his own fine person; Sir Hugh felt a strange

disappointment from the whole behaviour of his nephew, though it was

what he would not acknowledge, and could not define; Mr. Tyrold saw with

much uneasiness the glaringly apparent unsuitableness of the intended

alliance; Eugenia had never yet thought herself so plain and

insignificant, and felt as if, even since the morning, the small-pox had

renewed its ravages, and she had sunk into being shorter; Indiana and

Miss Margland were both acutely incensed with Mandlebert; Dr. Orkborne

saw but small reason to expect gratitude for his labours from the

supercilious negligence of the boasted young student; Lavinia was

disturbed for both her sisters; and Camilla felt that all she valued in

life depended upon the next critical hour or two.

In this state of general discomfort, Sir Hugh, who could never be

silent, alone talked. Having long prepared himself to look upon this

meeting as a day of happiness, he strove to believe, for a while, the

whole family were peculiarly enjoying themselves; but, upon a dead

silence, which ensued upon his taking a copious draught of Madeira and

water, 'Why, my dear nephew,' he cried, putting down his goblet, 'you

don't tell us any thing? which I've no doubt but you know why yourself.

However, as we're all met o' purpose to see you, I can't say I should be

sorry to hear the sound of your voice, provided it won't be

disagreeable.'

'We are not much--conversant, sir, in each other's connexions, I

believe,' answered Lynmere, without ceasing a moment to eat, and to help

himself, and ordering a fresh plate at every second mouthful; 'I have

seen nothing, yet, of your folks hereabouts; and, I fancy, sir, you

don't know a great deal of the people I have been used to.'

Sir Hugh, having good humouredly acknowledged this to be truth, was at a

loss what further to purpose; and, imagining the taciturnity of the rest

of the party to proceed from an awe of the knowledge and abilities of

his nephew, soon became himself so infected with fear and reverence,

that, though he could not be silent, he spoke only to those who were

next him, and in a whisper.

When the dessert was served, something like a general relief was

effected by the unexpected entrance of Dr. Marchmont. Alarmed by the

ungoverned, and, in him, unprecedented, emotions of Edgar, he had been

to Beech Park; and, finding he had not returned there, had ridden on, in

the most uneasy uncertainty, to inquire for him at Cleves.

Happy to see him safe, though almost smiling to see with whom, he was

beginning some excuse for his intrusion, when the baronet saved his

proceeding, by calling out, 'Well, this is as good a piece of good luck

as any we've met with yet! Here's Dr. Marchmont come to wish us joy; and

as he's as good a scholar as yourself, nephew, for any thing I know to

the contrary, why you need not be so afraid of speaking, for the sake of

our not understanding you; which here's five of us can do now, as well

as yourself.'

Lynmere, readily concluding Mr. Tyrold and Edgar, with the two Doctors,

made four, glanced round the table to see who might be the fifth; when,

supposing it Miss Margland, he withdrew his eyes with a look of

derision, and, turning to the butler, asked what wines he might call

for.

Sir Hugh then proposed that they should all pair off; the ignorant ones

going one way, and the learned ones staying another.

It would be difficult to say which looked most averse to this

proposition, Eugenia, or the young traveller; who hastily said, 'I

always ride after dinner, sir. Is your groom at hand? Can he shew me

your horses?'

'My nephew little suspects,' cried Sir Hugh, winking, 'Eugenia belongs

to the scholars! Ten to one but he thinks he's got Homer and Horace to

himself! But here, my dear boy, as you're so fond of the classics'--

Clermont, nimbly rising, and knocking down a decanter of water in his

haste, but not turning back to look at it, nor staying to offer any

apology, affected not to hear his uncle, and flung hastily out of the

room, calling upon Indiana to follow him.

'In the name of all the _Diavoli_,' cried he, pulling her into the park

with him, 'what does all this mean? Is the old gentleman _non compos_?

what's all this stuff he descants upon so freely, of scholars, and

classics, and Homer, and Horace?'

'O you must ask Eugenia, not me!' answered Indiana, scornfully.

'Why, what does Eugenia know of the matter?'

'Know? why every thing. She's a great scholar, and has been brought up

by Dr. Orkborne; and she talks Greek and Latin.'

'Does she so? then, by the Lord! she's no wife of mine! I'd as soon

marry the old Doctor himself! and I'm sure he'd make me as pretty a

wife. Greek and Latin! why I'd as soon tie myself to a rod. Pretty sort

of dinners she'll give!'

'O dear, yes, brother; she don't care what she eats; she cares for

nothing but books, and such kind of things.'

'Books! ha! ha! Books, and Latin and Greek! upon my faith, a pretty wife

the old gentleman has been so good as to find me! why he must be a

downright driveller!'

'Ah, brother, if we had all that fortune, what a different figure we

should cut with it!'

'Why, yes, I rather flatter myself we should. No great need of five

thousand a year to pore over books! Ha! ha! faith, this is a good hum

enough! So he thinks to take me in, does he?'

'Why, you know, she is so rich, brother....'

'Rich? well, and what am I? do you see such a figure as this,' (suddenly

skipping before her,) 'every day? Am I reduced to my last legs, think

you? Do you suppose I can't meet with some kind old dowager any time

these twenty years?'

'La, brother, won't you have her then?'

'No, faith, won't I! It's not come to that, neither. This learning is

worse than her ugliness; 'twould make me look like a dunce in my own

house.'

He then protested he had rather lose forty estates, than so be

sacrificed, and vowed, without venturing a direct refusal, he would soon

sicken the old gentleman of his scheme.

* * * * *

Eugenia, in retreating to her room, was again accompanied by her father

and her uncle, whom she conjured now, to name her to Clermont no more.

'I can't say I admire these puttings off, my dear,' said the baronet,

'in this our mortal state, which is always liable to end in our dying.

Not that I pretend to tell you I think him over much alert; but there's

no knowing but what he may have some meaning in it that we can't

understand; a person having studied all his life, has a right to a

little particularity.'

Mr. Tyrold himself now seriously interfered, and desired that,

henceforth, Clermont might be treated as if his visit to Cleves was

merely to congratulate his uncle upon his recovery; and that all

schemes, preparations, and allusions, might be put aside, unless the

youth himself, and with a good grace, brought them forward; meanwhile,

he and Lavinia would return without delay to Etherington, to obviate all

appearance of waiting the decision of any plan.

Sir Hugh was much discomfited by the exaction of such forbearance, yet

could the less oppose it, from his own internal discontent with his

nephew, which he inadvertently betrayed, by murmuring, in his way to his

chamber, 'There's no denying but what they've got some odd-fangled new

ways of their own, in those foreign parts; meeting a set of old

relations for the first time, and saying nothing to them, but asking for

the newspapers! Lord help us! caring about the wide world, so, when we

know nothing of it, instead of one's own uncles and nephews, and

kinspeople!'

* * * * *

During this time, Edgar, almost agonised by suspence and doubt, had

escaped to the summer-house, whither he was followed by Dr. Marchmont,

greatly to the wonder, almost with the contempt of Dr. Orkborne; whom he

quitted, in anxiety for his young friend, just as he had intimated a

design to consult him upon a difficult passage in an ancient author,

which had a place in his work, that was now nearly ready for the press.

'I know well, Doctor,' said Edgar, 'that to find me here, after all that

has passed, will make you conclude me the weakest of men ... but I

cannot now explain how it has been brought about ... these letters must

first tell me if Camilla and I meet more than once again.'

He then hastily ran over the letters; but by no means hastily could he

digest, nor even comprehend their contents. He thought them florid,

affected, and presuming; yet vague, studied, with little appearance of

sincerity, and less of explicit decision. What related to Lionel, and to

aiding him in the disposal of his wealth, seemed least intelligible, yet

most like serious meaning; but when he found that the interview at the

Grove was by positive appointment, and granted to a request made with a

forwardness and assurance so wide from all delicacy and propriety, the

blood mounted high into his cheeks, and, precipitately putting up the

packet, he exclaimed: 'Here, then, it ends! the last little ray of

hesitation is extinct ... extinct to be kindled never more!'

The sound of these last words caused him an emotion of sorrow he was

unable to resist, though unwilling to betray, and he hurried out of the

summer-house to the wood, where he strove to compose his mind to the

last leave-taking upon which he was now determined; but so dreadful was

the resolution which exacted from his own mouth the resignation of all

that, till now, had been dearest to his views and hopes, that the

afternoon was far advanced, before he could assume sufficient courage to

direct his steps to the spot where the sacrifice was to be made.

Accusing himself, then, of weakness unpardonable, he returned to the

summer-house, to apologise to Dr. Marchmont for his abrupt retreat; but

the Doctor had already re-entered the mansion. Thither, therefore, he

proceeded, purposing to seek Camilla, to return her the letters of Sir

Sedley, and to desire her commands in what manner to conduct himself

with her father and her uncle, in acknowledging his fears that the

projected union would fail of affording, to either party, the happiness

which, at first, it seemed to promise.

The carriage of Sir Hugh was in waiting at the door, and Mr. Tyrold and

Lavinia were in the hall. Edgar, in no condition for such an encounter,

would have avoided them; but Mr. Tyrold, little suspecting his desire,

rejoiced at the meeting, saying he had had the house searched for him in

vain, that he might shake hands with him before his return to

Etherington.

Then, taking him apart, 'My dear Edgar,' he cried, 'I have long loved

you as tenderly, and I may now confide in you as completely, as if you

were my son. I go hence in some inquietude; I fear my brother has been

too hasty in making known his views with regard to Clermont; who does

not seem equal to appreciating the worth of Eugenia, though it is

evident he has not been slack in noticing her misfortunes. I entreat

you, during my absence, to examine him as if you were already the

brother of that dear child, who merits, you well know, the best and

tenderest of husbands.'

He then followed Lavinia into the carriage, prevented by his own

occupied mind from observing the fallen countenance of Edgar, who, more

wretched than ever, bemoaned now the kindness of which he had hitherto

been proud, and lamented the paternal trust which he would have

purchased the day before almost with life.

* * * * *

Camilla, during this period, had gone through conflicts no less severe.

Jacob, who had bought a horse, for which he had cheerfully advanced 20

l. had informed her of the gate adventure of Edgar, and told her that,

but for his stopping him, he was riding like mad from Cleves, and only

sending them all a message that he could not come back.

Grieved, surprised, and offended, she instantly determined she would not

risk such another mark of his cold superiority, but restore to him his

liberty, and leave him master of himself. 'If the severity of his

judgment,' cried she, 'is so much more potent than the warmth of his

affection, it shall not be his delicacy, nor his compassion, that shall

make me his. I will neither be the wife of his repentance nor of his

pity. I must be convinced of his unaltered love, his esteem, his

trust ... or I shall descend to humiliation, not rise to happiness, in

becoming his. Softness here would be meanness; submission degrading ...

if he hesitates ... let him go!'

She then, without weighing, or even seeing one objection, precipitately

resolved to beg permission of her friends, to accept an invitation she

had received, without as yet answering, to meet Mrs. Berlinton at

Southampton, where that lady was going to pass some weeks. She could

there, she thought, give the rejection which here its inviolable

circumstances made her, for Lionel's sake, afraid to risk; or she could

there, if a full explanation should appease him, find opportunity to

make it with equal safety; his dislike to that acquaintance rather urged

than impeded her plan, for her wounded spirit panted to prove its

independence and dignity.

Eugenia approved this elevation of sentiment, and doubted not it would

shew her again in her true light to Edgar, and bring him, with added

esteem, to her feet.

Camilla wept with joy at the idea: 'Ah!' she cried, 'if such should be

my happy fate; if, after hearing all my imprudence, my precipitance, and

want of judgment, he should voluntarily, when wholly set free, return to

me ... I will confess to him every feeling ... and every failing of my

heart! I will open to him my whole soul, and cast myself ever after upon

his generosity and his goodness.... O, my Eugenia! almost on my knees

could I receive ... a second time ... the vows of Edgar Mandlebert!'

CHAPTER XI

_Ease and Freedom_

Lynmere, at tea-time, returned from his ride, with a fixed plan of

frightening or disgusting the baronet from the alliance; with Eugenia,

herself, he imagined the attempt would be vain, for he did not conceive

it possible any woman who had eyes could be induced to reject him.

Determined, therefore, to indulge, in full, both the natural presumption

and acquired luxuriance of his character, he conducted himself in a

manner that, to any thing short of the partiality of Sir Hugh, would

have rendered him insupportably offensive: but Sir Hugh had so long

cherished a reverence for what he had himself ordered with regard to his

studies, and what he implicitly credited of his attainments, that it was

more easy to him to doubt his senses, than to suppose so accomplished a

scholar could do any thing but what was right.

'Your horses are worth nothing, sir,' cried he, in entering; 'I never

rode so unpleasant a beast. I don't know who has the care of your stud;

but whoever it is, he deserves to be hanged.'

Sir Hugh could not refuse, either to his justice or his kindness, to

vindicate his faithful Jacob; and for his horses he made as many

excuses, as if every one had been a human creature, whom he was

recommending to his mercy, with a fear they were unworthy of his favour.

Not a word was said more, except what Miss Margland, from time to time,

extorted, by begging questions, in praise of her tea, till Lynmere,

violently ringing the bell, called out to order a fire.

Every body was surprised at this liberty, without any previous demand of

permission from the baronet, or any inquiry into the feelings of the

rest of the company; and Sir Hugh, in a low voice, said to Eugenia, 'I

am a little afraid poor Mary will be rather out of humour to have the

grate to polish again tomorrow morning, in the case my nephew should not

like to have another fire then; which, I suppose, if the weather

continues so hot, may very likely not be agreeable to him.'

Another pause now ensued; Dr. Marchmont, who, of the whole party, was

alone, at this time, capable of leading to a general conversation, was

separately occupied by watching Camilla; while himself, as usual, was

curiously and unremittingly examined by Dr. Orkborne, in whom so much

attention to a young lady raised many private doubts of the justice of

his scholastic fame; which soon, by what he observed of his civility

even to Miss Margland, were confirmed nearly to scepticism.

Mary, now, entering with a coal scuttle and a candle, Lynmere, with much

displeasure, called out, 'Bring wood; I hate coals.'

Mary, as much displeased, and nearly as much humoured as himself,

answered that nothing but coals were ever burnt in that grate.

'Take it all away, then, and bid my man send me my pelisse. That I made

to cross the Alps in.'

'I am very sorry, indeed, nephew,' said Sir Hugh, 'that we were not

better prepared for your being so chilly, owing to the weather being set

in so sultry, that we none of us much thought of having a fire; and,

indeed, in my young time, we were never allowed thinking of such things

before Michaelmas-day; which I suppose is quite behind-hand now. Pray,

nephew, if it is not too much trouble to you, what's the day for

lighting fires in foreign parts?'

'There's no rule of that sort, now, sir, in modern philosophy; that kind

of thing's completely out; entirely exploded, I give you my word.'

'Well, every thing's new, Lord help me, since I was born! But pray,

nephew, if I may ask, without tiring you too much, on account of my

ignorance, have they fires in summer as well as winter there?'

'Do you imagine there are grates and fires on the Continent, sir, the

same as in England? ha! ha!'

Sir Hugh was discountenanced from any further inquiry.

Another silence ensued, broken again by a vehement ringing of the bell.

When the servant appeared, 'What have you got,' cried Lynmere, 'that you

can bring me to eat?'

'Eat, nephew! why you would not eat before supper, when here's nobody

done tea? not that I'd have you baulk your appetite, which, to be sure,

ought to be the best judge.'

The youth ordered some oysters.

There were none in the house.

He desired a barrel might immediately be procured; he could eat nothing

else.

Still Edgar, though frequent opportunities occurred, had no fortitude to

address Camilla, and no spirits to speak. To her, however, his dejection

was a revival; she read in it her power, and hoped her present plan

would finally confirm it.

A servant now came in, announcing a person who had brought two letters,

one for Sir Hugh, the other for Miss Camilla, but who said he would

deliver them himself. The baronet desired he might be admitted.

Several minutes passed, and he did not appear. The wonder of Sir Hugh

was awakened for his letter; but Camilla, dreading a billet from Sir

Sedley, was in no haste.

Lynmere, however, glad of an opportunity to issue orders, or make

disturbance, furiously rang the bell, saying: 'Where are these letters?'

'Jacob,' said the baronet, 'my nephew don't mean the slowness to be any

fault of yours, it being what you can't help; only tell the person that

brought us our letters, we should be glad to look at them, not knowing

who they may be from.'

'Why he seems but an odd sort of fish, sir; I can't much make him out;

he's been begging some flour to put in his hair; he'll make himself so

spruce, he says, we sha'n't know him again; I can't much think he's a

gentleman.'

He then, however, added he had made a mistake, as there was no letter

for his master, but one for Miss Camilla, and the other for Miss

Margland.

'For me?' exclaimed Miss Margland, breaking forth from a scornful

silence, during which her under lip had been busy to express her

contempt of the curiosity excited upon this subject. 'Why how dare they

not tell me it was for me? it may be from somebody of consequence,

about something of importance, and here's half a day lost before I can

see it!'

She then rose to go in search of it herself, but opened the door upon

Mr. Dubster.

A ghost, could she have persuaded herself she had seen one, could not

more have astonished, though it would more have dismayed her. She drew

haughtily back, saying: 'Is there nobody else come?'

The servant answered in the negative, and she retreated to her chair.

Camilla alone was not perplext by this sight; she had, already, from the

description, suggested whom she might expect, according to the

intimation given by the ever mischievous Lionel.

Miss Margland, concluding he would turn out to be some broken tradesman,

prepared herself to expect that the letter was a petition, and watched

for an opportunity to steal out of the room.

Mr. Dubster made two or three low bows, while he had his hand upon the

door, and two or three more when he had shut it. He then cast his eyes

round the room, and espying Camilla, with a leering sort of smile, said:

'O, you're there, ma'am! I should find you out in a hundred. I've got a

letter for you, ma'am, and another for the gentlewoman I took for your

mamma; and I was not much out in my guess, for there's no great

difference, as one may say, between a mamma and a governess; only the

mother's the more natural, like.'

He then presented her a letter, which she hastily put up, not daring to

venture at a public perusal, lest it might contain not merely something

ludicrous concerning Mr. Dubster, to which she was wholly indifferent,

but allusions to Sir Sedley Clarendel, which, in the actual situation of

things, might be fatally unseasonable.

'And now,' said Mr. Dubster, 'I must give up my t'other letter, asking

the gentlewoman's pardon for not giving it before; only I was willing to

give the young lady her's first, young ladies being apt to be more in a

hurry than people a little in years.'

This address did not much add to the benevolent eagerness of Miss

Margland to read the epistle, and endeavouring to decline accepting it:

'Really,' she said, 'unless I know what it's about, I'm not much used to

receiving letters in that manner.'

'As to what it's about,' cried he, with a half suppressed simper, and

nodding his head on one side; 'that's a bit of a secret, as you'll see

when you've read it.'

'Indeed, good man, I wish you very well; but as to reading all the

letters that every body brings one, it requires more time than I can

pretend to have to spare, upon every trifling occasion.'

She would then have retired; but Mr. Dubster, stopping her, said: 'Why,

if you don't read it, ma'am, nobody'll be never the wiser for what I

come about, for it's ungain-like to speak for one's self; and the young

gentleman said he'd write to you, because, he said, you'd like it the

best.'

'The young gentleman? what young gentleman?'

'Young squire Tyrold; he said you'd be as pleased as any thing to tell

it to the old gentleman yourself; for you was vast fond, he said, of

matrimony.'

'Matrimony? what have I to do with matrimony?' cried Miss Margland,

reddening and bridling; 'if it's any vulgar trick of that kind, that Mr.

Lionel is amusing himself with, I'm not quite the right sort of person

to be so played upon; and I desire, mister, you'll take care how you

come to me any more upon such errands, lest you meet with your proper

deserts.'

'Dear heart! I'm not going to offer anything uncivil. As to matrimony,

it's no great joke to a man, when once he's made his way in the world;

it's more an affair of you ladies by half.'

'Of us? upon my word! this is a compliment rather higher than I

expected. Mr. Lionel may find, however, I have friends who will resent

such impertinence, if he imagines he may send who he will to me with

proposals of this sort.'

'Lauk, ma'am, you need not be in such a fright for nothing! however,

there's your letter, ma'am,' putting it upon the table; 'and when you

are in better cue, I suppose you'll read it.'

Then, advancing to Camilla: 'Now, ma'am, let's you and I have a little

talk together; but first, by good rights, I ought to speak to your

uncle; only I don't know which he is; 'twill be mortal kind if you'll

help a body out.'

Sir Hugh was going to answer for himself, when Lynmere, fatigued with so

long a scene in which he had no share, had recourse to his friend the

bell, calling out, at the same time, in a voice of impatience, 'No

oysters yet!'

Sir Hugh now began to grow unhappy for his servants; for himself he not

only could bear any thing, but still concluded he had nothing to bear;

but his domestics began all to wear long faces, and, accustomed to see

them happy, he was hurt to observe the change. No partiality to his

nephew could disguise to him, that, long used to every possible

indulgence, it was vain to hope they would submit, without murmuring, to

so new a bondage of continual and peremptory commands. Instead of

attending, therefore, to Mr. Dubster, he considered what apology to

offer to Jacob; who suspecting by whom he was summoned, did not make his

appearance till Lynmere rung again.

'Where are these oysters?' he then demanded; 'have you been eating

them?'

'No, sir,' answered he surlily; 'we're not so sharp set; we live in Old

England; we don't come from outlandish countries.'

This true John Bullism, Lynmere had neither sense to despise, nor humour

to laugh at; and, seriously in a rage, called out, 'Sirrah, I'll break

your bones!' and lifted up his riding switch, with which, as well as his

boots, he had re-entered the parlour.

'The Lord be good unto me!' cried Sir Hugh, 'what new ways are got into

the world! but don't take it to heart, Jacob, for as to breaking your

bones, after all your long services, it's a thing I sha'n't consent to;

which I hope my nephew won't take ill.'

Affronted with the master, and enraged with the man, Lynmere stroamed

petulantly up and down the room, with loud and marked steps, that

called, or at least disturbed the attention of every one, exclaiming, at

every turning, 'A confounded country this! a villainous country! nothing

to be had in it! I don't know what in the world to think of that there's

any chance I can get!'

Sir Hugh, recovering, said he was sorry he was so badly off; and desired

Jacob not to fail procuring oysters if they were to be had within a

mile.

'A mile?... ten miles! say ten miles round,' cried Lynmere, 'or you do

nothing; what's ten miles for a thing of that sort?'

'Ten miles, nephew? what? at this time of night! why you don't think,

with all your travelling, that when they've got ten miles there, they'll

have ten miles to come back, and that makes count twenty.'

'Well, sir, and suppose it was forty; what have such fellows to do

better?'

Sir Hugh blessed himself, and Mr. Dubster said to Camilla: 'So, ma'am,

why you don't read your letter, neither, no more than the gentlewoman;

however, I think you may as well see a little what's in it; though I

suppose no great matters, being from a lady.'

'A lady! what lady?' cried she, and eagerly taking it from her pocket,

saw the hand-writing of Mrs. Berlinton, and inquired how it came into

his possession.

He answered, that happening to meet the lady's footman, whom he had

known something of while in business, as he was going to put it to the

post, he told him he was coming to the very house, and so took it to

bring himself, the man being rather in a hurry to go another way; 'so I

thought 'twas as well, ma'am,' he added, 'to save you the postage; for

as to a day or so sooner or later, I suppose it can break no great

squares, in you ladies letter-writing.'

Camilla, hastily running it over, found it contained a most pressing

repetition of invitation from Mrs. Berlinton for the Southampton plan,

and information that she should make a little circuit, to call and take

her up at Cleves, if not immediately forbidden; the time she named for

her arrival, though four days distant from the date of her letter, would

be now the following morning.

This seemed, to the agitated spirits of Camilla, an inviting opening to

her scheme. She gave the letter to her uncle, saying, in a fluttered

manner, she should be happy to accompany Mrs. Berlinton, for a few days,

if her father should not disapprove the excursion, and if he could

himself have the goodness to spare one of the carriages to fetch her

home, as Southampton was but sixteen miles off.

While Sir Hugh, amazed at this request, yet always unable to pronounce a

negative to what she desired, stammered, Edgar abruptly took leave.

Thunderstruck by his departure, she looked affrighted, after him, with a

sigh impossible to repress; she now first weighed the hazard of what she

was doing, the deep game she was inconsiderately playing. Would it

sunder ... would it unite them?... Tears started into her eyes at the

doubt; she did not hear her uncle's answer; she rose to hurry out of the

room; but before she could escape, the big drops rolled fast down her

cheeks; and, when arrived at her chamber, 'I have lost him!' she cried,

'by my own unreflecting precipitance; I have lost him, perhaps, for

ever!'

Dr. Marchmont now also took leave; Mr. Dubster desired he might speak

with the baronet the next morning; and the family remained alone.

CHAPTER XII

_Dilemmas_

While the baronet was pondering, in the most melancholy manner, upon

this sudden and unexpected demand of absence in Camilla, the grim

goddess of Envy took possession of the fine features of Indiana; who

declared she was immured alive, while her cousin went everywhere. The

curiosity of Lynmere being excited, to inquire what was to be had or

done at Southampton, he heard it abounded in good company, and good

fish, and protested he must undoubtedly set out for it the next morning.

Indiana then wept with vexation and anger, and Miss Margland affirmed,

she was the only young lady in Hampshire, who had never been at

Southampton. Sir Hugh, concluding Edgar would attend Camilla, feared it

might hurt the other match to part Eugenia from Clermont; and, after a

little pause, though deeply sighing at such a dispersion from Cleves,

consented that they should all go together. Camilla, therefore, was

commissioned to ask leave of Mr. Tyrold for Eugenia, as well as for

herself, and to add a petition from Sir Hugh, that he and Lavinia would

spend the time of their absence at Cleves. The baronet then, of his own

accord, asked Dr. Orkborne to be of the party, that Eugenia, he said,

might run over her lessons with him in a morning, for fear of forgetting

them.

A breach, however, such as this, of plans so long formed, and a

desertion so voluntary of his house, at the very epoch he had settled

for rendering its residence the most desirable, sent him in complete

discomfiture to his bed. But there, in a few hours, his sanguine temper,

and the kindness of his heart new modelled and new coloured the

circumstances of his chagrin. He considered he should have full time to

prepare for the double marriages; and that, with the aid of Lavinia, he

might delight and amaze them all, with new dresses and new trinkets,

which he could now choose without the torment of continual opposition

from the documentising Miss Margland. Thus he restored his plastic mind

to its usual satisfaction, and arose the next morning without a cloud

upon his brow. The pure design of benevolence is to bestow happiness

upon others, but its intrinsic reward is bringing happiness home!

But this sweetness of nature, so aptly supplying the first calls, and

the first virtues of philosophy, was yet more severely again tried the

next morning: for when, forgetting the caution he had solemnly promised,

but vainly endeavoured to observe, he intimated to Lynmere these

purposes, the youth, blushing at the idea of being taken for the

destined husband of Eugenia in public, preferred all risks to being

followed by such a rumour to Southampton; and, when he found she was to

be of the party, positively declared the match to be out of all

question.

Sir Hugh now stood aghast. Many had been his disappointments; his rage

for forming schemes, and his credulity in persuading himself they would

be successful, were sources not more fertile of amusement in their

projection, than of mortification in their event: but here, the length

of time since his plan had been arranged, joined to the very superficial

view he had taken of any chance of its failure, had made him, by

degrees, regard it as so fixed and settled, that it rather demanded

congratulation than concurrence, rather waited to be enjoyed than

executed.

Lynmere took not the smallest interest in the dismay of his uncle, but,

turning upon his heel, said he would go to the stables, to see if he

could find something that would carry him any better than the miserable

jade he had mounted the preceding evening.

Sir Hugh remained in a kind of stupefaction. He seemed to himself to be

bereft of every purpose of life; and robbed at once, of all view for his

actions, all subject for his thoughts. The wide world, he believed, had

never, hitherto, given birth to a plan so sagaciously conceived, so

rationally combined, so infallibly secure: yet it was fallen, crushed,

rejected!

A gleam of sunshine, however, ere long, [burst] upon his despondence; it

occurred to him, that the learned education of Eugenia was still a

secret to her cousin; his whole scheme, therefore, might perhaps yet be

retrieved, when Lynmere should be informed of the peculiar preparations

made for his conjugal happiness.

Fetching now a long breath, to aid the revival of his faculties and his

spirits, he considered how to open his discourse so as to render it most

impressive, and then sent for Clermont to attend him in his chamber.

'Nephew,' cried he, upon his entrance, 'I am now going to talk to you a

little in your own way, having something to tell you of, that, I

believe, you won't know how to hold cheap, being a thing that belongs to

your studies; that is to say, to your cousin's; which, I hope, is pretty

much the same thing, at least as to the end. Now the case of what I have

to say is this; you must know, nephew, I had always set my heart upon

having a rich heir; but it's what did not turn out, which I am sorry

enough for; but where's the man that's so wise as to know his own doom?

that is, the doom of his fortune. However, that's what I should not talk

of to you, having so little; which, I hope, you won't take to heart.

And, indeed, it in't much worth a wise man's thinking of, when he han't

got it, for what's a fortune, at bottom, but mere metal? And so having,

as I said before, no heir, I'm forced, in default of it, to take up with

an heiress. But, to the end of making all parties happy, I've had her

brought up in the style of a boy, for the sake of your marrying her. For

which reason, I believe, in point of the classics....'

'Me, sir!' cried Lynmere, recovering from a long yawning fit, 'and what

have I to do with marrying a girl like a boy? That's not my taste, my

dear sir, I assure you. Besides, what has a wife to do with the

classics? will they shew her how to order her table? I suppose when I

want to eat, I may go to a cook's shop!'

Here subsided, at once, every particle of that reverence Sir Hugh had so

long nourished for Clermont Lynmere. To hear the classics spoken of with

disrespect, after all the pains he had taken, all the orders he had

given for their exclusive study and veneration, and to find the common

calls of life, which he had believed every scholar regarded but as means

of existence, not auxiliaries of happiness, named with preference,

distanced, at a stroke, all high opinion of his nephew, and made way, in

its stead, for a displeasure not wholly free from disdain.

'Well, Clermont,' said he, after a pause, 'I won't keep you any longer,

now I know your mind, which I wish I had known before, for the account

of your cousin, who has had plague enough about it in her bringing up;

which, however, I shall put an end to now, not seeing that any good has

come from it.'

Lynmere joyfully accepted the permission to retire, enchanted that the

rejection was thus completely off his mind, and had incurred only so

slight a reproof, unaccompanied with one menace, or even remonstrance.

The first consternation of Sir Hugh, at the fall of this favourite

project, was, indeed, somewhat lessened, at this moment, by the fall of

his respectful opinion of its principal object. He sent therefore,

hastily, for Eugenia, to whom he abruptly exclaimed, 'My dear girl,

who'd have thought it? here's your cousin Clermont, with all his Greek

and Latin, which I begin to bless God I don't know a word of, turning

out a mere common nothing, thinking about his dinners and suppers! for

which reason I beg you'll think of him no more, it not being worth your

while; in particular, as he don't desire it.'

Eugenia, at this intimation, felt nearly as much relieved as disturbed.

To be refused was, indeed, shocking; not to her pride, she was a

stranger to that passion; but to her delicacy, which pointed out to her,

in strong colours, the impropriety of having been exposed to such a

decision: nevertheless, to find herself unshackled from an alliance to

which she looked forward with dread, without offending her uncle, to

whom so many reasons made it dear, or militating against her own heroic

sentiments of generosity, which revolted against wilfully depriving her

cousin of an inheritance already offered to him, removed a weight from

her mind, which his every word, look, and gesture, had contributed to

increase since their first meeting.

* * * * *

Dr. Marchmont had ridden to Beech Park, where he had spent the night,

though uninvited by its agitated owner, whom the very name of Mrs.

Berlinton, annexed to an accepted party of pleasure, had driven, in

speechless agony, from Cleves.

'I wonder not,' cried he, 'at your disturbance; I feel for it, on the

contrary, more than ever, from my observations of this evening; for I

now see the charm, the potent charm, as well as the difficulties of your

situation. This strange affair with Sir Sedley Clarendel cannot, in

common foresight of what may ensue from it, be passed over without the

most rigid scrutiny, and severest deliberation; yet, I sincerely hope,

inquiry may produce some palliation: this young lady, I see, will not

easily, for sweetness, for countenance, for every apparent attraction,

be replaced: and, the first of all requisites is certainly in your

favour; it is evident she loves you.'

'Loves me?' cried Edgar, his arms involuntarily encircling him as he

repeated the magnetising words: 'Ah! Dr. Marchmont, could she then thus

grieve and defy me?--And yet, so too said Jacob,--that good, faithful,

excellent old servant....'

'Yes; I watched her unremittingly; and saw her so much hurt by your

abrupt retreat, that her eyes filled with tears the moment you left the

room.'

'O, Dr. Marchmont!--and for me were they shed?--my dear--dear friend!

withhold from me such a picture--or reconcile me completely to viewing

no other!'

'Once more, let me warn you to circumspection. The stake for which you

are playing is life in its best part, 'tis peace of mind. That her

manners are engaging, that her looks are captivating, and even that her

heart is yours, admit no doubt: but the solidity or the lightness of

that heart are yet to be proved.'

'Still, Doctor, though nearly in defiance of all my senses, still I can

doubt anything rather than the heart of Camilla! Precipitate, I know,

she has always been reckoned; but her precipitance is of kin to her

noblest virtues; it springs but from the unsuspicious frankness of an

unguarded, because innocent nature. And this, in a short time, her

understanding will correct.'

'Are you sure it is adequate to the task? There is often, in early

youth, a quickness of parts which raises expectations that are never

realised. Their origin is but in the animal spirits, which, instead of

ripening into judgment and sense by added years, dwindle into

nothingness, or harden into flippancy. The character, at this period, is

often so unstable, as to be completely new moulded by every new

accident, or new associate. How innumerable are the lurking ill

qualities that may lie dormant beneath the smiles of youth and beauty,

in the season of their untried serenity! The contemporaries of half our

fiercest viragos of fifty, may assure you that, at fifteen, they were

all softness and sweetness. The present æra, however, my dear young

friend, is highly favourable to all you can judiciously wish; namely,

the entire re-establishment, or total destruction of all confidence....

To a man of your nice feelings, there is no medium. Your love demands

respect, or your tranquillity exacts flight from its object. Set apart

your offence at the cultivation of an acquaintance you disapprove; be

yourself of the party to Southampton, and there, a very little

observation will enable you to dive into the most secret recesses of her

character.'

'Steadiness, Doctor, I do not want, nor yet, however I suffer from its

exertion, fortitude: but a plan such as this, requires something more;

it calls for an equivocal conduct, which, to me, would be impracticable,

and to her, might prove delusive. No!... the openness I so much pine to

meet with, I must, at least, not forfeit myself.'

'The fervour of your integrity, my dear Mandlebert, mistakes caution for

deceit. If, indeed, this plan had any other view than your union, it

would not merely be cruel, but infamous: the truth, however, is you must

either pursue her upon proof, or abandon her at once, with every chance

of repenting such a measure.'

'Alas! how torturing is hesitation! to believe myself the object of her

regard ... to think that first of all human felicities mine, yet to find

it so pliant ... so precarious ... to see her, with such thoughtless

readiness, upon the point of falling into the hands of another!...

receiving ... answering ... his letters!... letters too so confident,

so daring! made up of insolent demands and imperious reproaches ... to

meet him by his own appointment.... O, Dr. Marchmont! all delicious as

is the idea of her preference ... all entwined as she is around my soul,

how, now, how ever again, can I be happy, either to quit ... or to claim

her?...'

'This division of sentiment is what gives rise to my plan. At

Southampton, you will see if Sir Sedley pursues her; and, as she will be

uncertain of your intentions, you will be enabled to judge the

singleness of her mind, and the stability of her affection, by the

reception she gives him.'

'But if ... as I think I can gather from her delivering me his letters,

the affair, whatever it has been, with Sir Sedley, is over.... What

then?'

'You will have leisure to discuss it; and opportunity, also, to see her

with other Sir Sedleys. Public places abound with those flutterers after

youth and beauty; unmeaning admirers, who sigh at every new face; or

black traitors to society, who seek but to try, and try but to publish

their own power of conquest.'

'Will you, then, my dear Doctor, be also of the party? for my sake, will

you, once more, quit your studies and repose, to give me, upon the spot,

your counsel, according to the varying exigence of varying

circumstances? to aid me to prepare and compose my mind for whatever may

be the event, and to guide even, if possible, my wavering and distracted

thoughts?'

To the importance of the period, and to a plea so serious, every

obstacle yielded, and Dr. Marchmont agreed to accompany him to

Southampton.

CHAPTER XIII

_Live and Learn_

Before the Cleves party assembled to breakfast, after the various

arrangements made for Southampton, Mr. Dubster arrived, and demanded an

interview with Sir Hugh, who, attending him to the drawing-room, asked

his pleasure.

'Why, have not you read the young gentleman's letter, sir?' cried he,

surprised, 'because, he said, he'd put it all down, clear as a pike

staff, to save time.'

Sir Hugh had not heard of it.

'Why, then, if you please, sir, we'll go and ask that elderly

gentlewoman, what she's done with it. She might as well have shewed it,

after the young gentleman's taking the trouble to write it to her. But

she is none of the good naturedest, I take it.'

Repairing, then, to Miss Margland, after his usual bows to all the

company, 'I ask pardon, ma'am,' he cried; 'but pray, what's the reason

of your keeping the young gentleman's letter to yourself, which was writ

o'purpose to let the old gentleman know what I come for?'

'Because I never trouble myself with any thing that's impertinent,' she

haughtily answered: though, in fact, when the family had retired, she

had stolen downstairs, and read the letter; which contained a warm

recommendation of Mr. Dubster to her favour, with abundant flippant

offers to promote her own interest for so desirable a match, should

Camilla prove blind to its advantages. This she had then burnt, with a

determination never to acknowledge her condescension in opening it.

The repeated calls of Mr. Dubster procuring no further satisfaction;

'Why, then, I don't see,' he said, 'but what I'm as bad off, as if the

young gentleman had not writ the letter, for I've got to speak for

myself at last.'

Taking Sir Hugh, then, by a button of his coat, he desired he would go

back with him to the other parlour: and there, with much circumlocution,

and unqualified declarations of his having given over all thoughts of

further marrying, till the young gentleman over persuaded him of his

being particular agreeable to the young lady, he solemnly proposed

himself for Miss Camilla Tyrold.

Sir Hugh, who perceived in this address nothing that was ridiculous, was

somewhat drawn from reflecting on his own disappointment, by the pity he

conceived for this hopeless suitor, to whom, with equal circumlocution

of concern, he communicated, that his niece was on the point of marriage

with a neighbour.

'I know that,' replied Mr. Dubster, nodding sagaciously, 'the young

gentleman having told me of the young baronight; but he said, it was all

against her will, being only your over teasing, and the like.'

'The Lord be good unto me!' exclaimed the baronet, holding up his hands;

'if I don't think all the young boys have a mind to drive me out of my

wits, one after t'other!'

Hurrying, then, back to the breakfast parlour, and to Camilla, 'Come

hither, my dear,' he cried, 'for here's a gentleman come to make his

addresses to you, that won't take an answer.'

Every serious thought, and every melancholy apprehension in Camilla gave

place, at this speech, to the ludicrous image of such an admirer as Mr.

Dubster, foisted upon her by the ridiculous machinations of Lionel. She

took Sir Hugh by the hand, and, drawing him away to the most distant

window, said, in a low voice, 'My dear uncle, this is a mere trick of

Lionel; the person you see here is, I believe, a tinker.'

'A tinker!' repeated Sir Hugh, quite loud, in defiance of the signs and

hists! hists! of Camilla, 'good lack! that's a person I should never

have thought of!' Then, walking up to Mr. Dubster, who was taking into

his hands all the ornaments from the chimney-piece, one by one, to

examine, 'Sir,' he said, 'you may be a very good sort of man, and I

don't doubt but you are, for I've a proper respect for every trade in

its way; but in point of marrying my niece, it's a thing I must beg you

to put out of your head; it not being a proper subject to talk of to a

young lady, from a person in that line.'

'Very well, sir,' answered Mr. Dubster, stiffly, and pouting, 'it's not

of much consequence; don't make yourself uneasy. There's nothing in what

I was going to propose but what was quite genteel. I'd scorn to address

a lady else. She'd have a good five hundred a-year, in case of outliving

me.'

'Good lack! five hundred a-year! who'd have thought of such a thing by

the tinkering business?'

'The what business, did you say, sir?' cried Mr. Dubster, strutting up

to the baronet, with a solemn frown.

'The tinkering business, my good friend. An't you a tinker?'

'Sir!' cried Mr. Dubster, swelling, 'I did not think, when I was coming

to make such a handsome offer, of being affronted at such a rate as

this. Not that I mind it. It's not worth fretting about. However, as to

a tinker, I'm no more a tinker than yourself, whatever put it in your

head.'

'Good lack, my dear,' cried the baronet, to Camilla, 'the gentleman

quite denies it.'

Camilla, though unable to refrain from laughing, confessed she had

received the information from Mrs. Arlbery at the Northwick breakfast,

who, she now supposed, had said it in random sport.

Sir Hugh cordially begged his pardon, and asked him to take a seat at

the breakfast table, to soften the undesigned offence.

A note now arrived from Mr. Tyrold to the baronet. It contained his

consent to return, with Lavinia, to Cleves, and his ready acquiescence

in the little excursion to Southampton, since Miss Margland would be

superintendant of the party; 'and since,' he added, 'they will have

another guardian, to whom already I consign my Camilla, and, upon her

account, my dear Eugenia also, with the same fearless confidence I

should feel in seeing them again under the maternal wing.'

Sir Hugh, who always read his letters aloud, said, when he had done:

'See what it is to be a good boy! my brother looks upon young Mr. Edgar

as these young girls' husband already; that is, of one of them; by which

means the other becomes his sister; which, I'm sure, is a trouble he

won't mind, except as a pleasure.'

Camilla's distress at this speech past unnoticed, from the abrupt

entrance of Lynmere, giving orders aloud to his servant to get ready for

Southampton.

Inflamed with triumph in his recent success in baffling his uncle, that

youth was in the most turbulent spirits, and fixed a resolution either

to lord it over the whole house, or regain at once his liberty for

returning to the Continent.

Forcing a chair between Sir Hugh and Camilla, he seized rapidly whatever

looked most inviting from every plate on the table, to place upon his

own, murmuring the whole time against the horses, declaring the stud the

most wretched he had ever seen, and protesting the old groom must be

turned away without loss of time.

'What, Jacob?' cried the baronet; 'why, nephew, he has lived with me

from a boy; and now he's grown old, I'd sooner rub down every horse with

my own hand, than part with him.'

'He must certainly go, sir. There's no keeping him. I may be tempted

else to knock his brains out some day. Besides, I have a very good

fellow I can recommend to you of my own.'

'Clermont, I've no doubt of his being a good fellow, which I'm very glad

of; but as to your always knocking out the brains of my servants, it's a

thing I must beg you not to talk of any more, being against the law.

Besides which, it don't sound very kind of you, considering their having

done you no harm; never having seen your face, as one may say, except

just to wait upon you; which can hardly be reckoned a bad office;

besides a servant's being a man, as well as you; whether Homer and

Horace tell you so or no.'

To see Sir Hugh displeased, was a sight new to the whole house. Camilla

and Eugenia, mutually pained for him, endeavoured, by various little

kind offices, to divert his attention; but Indiana thought his

displeasure proved her brother to be a wit; and Clermont rose in spirits

and in insolence upon the same idea: too shallow to know, that of all

the qualities with which the perversity of human nature is gifted, and

power which is the most common to attain, and the most easy to practise,

is the art of provoking.

Jacob now appearing, Lynmere ordered some shrimps.

There were none.

'No shrimps? There's nothing to be had! 'Tis a wretched county this!'

'You'll get nice shrimps at Southampton, sir, by what I can hear,' said

Mr. Dubster. 'Tom Hicks says he has been sick with 'em many a day, he's

eat such a heap. They gets 'em by hundreds, and hundreds, and hundreds

at a time.'

'Pray, nephew, how long shall you stay? because of my nieces coming back

at the same time.'

'A fortnight's enough to tire me anywhere, sir. Pray what do you all do

with yourselves here after breakfast? What's your mode?'

'Mode, nephew? we've got no particular mode that ever I heard of.

However, among so many of us, I think it's a little hard, if you can

find nothing to say to us; all, in a manner, your relations too.'

'We take no notice of relations now, sir; that's out.'

'I'm sorry for it, nephew, for a relation's a relation, whether you take

notice of him or not. And there's ne'er an ode in Virgil will tell you

to the contrary, as I believe.'

A short silence now ensued, which was broken by a sigh from Sir Hugh,

who ejaculated to himself, though aloud, 'I can't but think what my poor

friend Westwyn will do, if his son's come home in this manner! caring

for nobody, but an oyster, or a shrimp; ... unless it's a newspaper!'

'And what should a man care for else, my good old friend, in a desart

place such as this?'

'Good old friend!' repeated the baronet; 'to be sure, I'm not very

young.... However, as to that ... but you mean no harm, I know, for

which reason I can't be so ill-natured as to take it ill. However, if

poor Westwyn is served in this ... way.... He's my dearest friend that

I've got, out of us all here, of my own kin, and he's got only one son,

and he sent him to foreign parts only for cheapness; and if he should

happen to like nothing he can get at home, it won't answer much in

saving, to send out for things all day long.'

'O don't be troubled, sir; Westwyn's but a poor creature. He'll take up

with anything. He lived within his allowance the whole time. A mighty

poor creature.'

'I'm glad of it! glad of it, indeed!' cried Sir Hugh, with involuntary

eagerness; 'I should have been sorry if my poor good old friend had had

such disappointment.'

'Upon my honour,' cried Lynmere, piqued, 'the quoz of the present season

are beyond what a man could have hoped to see!'

'Quoz! what's quoz, nephew?'

'Why, it's a thing there's no explaining to you sort of gentlemen; and

sometimes we say quiz, my good old sir.'

Sir Hugh, now, for almost the first time in his life, felt seriously

affronted. His utmost lenity could not palliate the wilful disrespect of

his language; and, with a look of grave displeasure, he answered,

'Really, nephew, I can't but say, I think you've got rather a particular

odd way of speaking to persons. As to talking so much about people's

being old, you'd do well to consider that's no fault in anybody; except

one's years, which is what we can't be said to help.'

'You descant too much upon words, sir; we have left off, now, using them

with such prodigious precision. It's quite over, sir.'

'O, my dear Clermont!' cried Sir Hugh, losing his short movement of

anger in a more tender sensation of concern, 'how it goes to my heart to

see you turn out such a jackanapes!'

Lynmere, resentfully hanging back, said no more: and Mr. Dubster, having

drunk seven dishes of tea, with a long apology between each for the

trouble, gladly seized the moment of pause, to ask Camilla when she had

heard from _their friend Mrs. Mittin_, adding, 'I should have brought

you a letter from her, ma'am, myself, but that I was rather out of sorts

with her; for happening to meet her, the day as you went, walking on

them Pantiles, with some of her quality binding, when I was not dressed

out quite in my best becomes, she made as if she did not know me. Not as

it signifies. It's pretty much of a muchness to me. I remember her

another sort of person to what she looks now, before I was a gentleman

myself.'

'Why, pray, what was you then, sir?' cried Sir Hugh, with great

simplicity.

'As to that, sir, there's no need to say whether I was one thing or

another, as I know of; I'm not in the least ashamed of what I was.'

Sir Hugh seeing him offended, was beginning an apology; but,

interrupting him, 'No, sir,' he said, 'there's no need to say nothing

about it. It's not a thing to take much to heart. I've been defamed

often enough, I hope, to be above minding it. Only just this one thing,

sir; I beg I may have the favour to be introduced to that lady as had

the obligingness to call me a tinker, when I never was no such thing.'

Breakfast now being done, the ladies retired to prepare for their

journey.

'Well,' cried Mr. Dubster, looking after Eugenia, 'that little lady will

make no great figure at such a place as Southton. I would not have her

look out for a husband there.'

'She'd have been just the thing for me!' cried Lynmere, haughtily

rising, and conceitedly parading his fine form up and down the room; his

eyes catching it from looking-glass to looking-glass, by every possible

contrivance; 'just the thing! matched to perfection!'

'Lord help me! if I don't find myself in the dark about every thing!'

cried Sir Hugh; 'who'd have thought of you scholars thinking so much of

beauty; I should be glad to know what your classics say to that point?'

'Faith, my good sir, I never trouble myself to ask. From the time we

begin our tours, we wipe away all that stuff as fast as possible from

our thoughts.'

'Why, pray, nephew, what harm could it do to your tours?'

'We want room, sir, room in the pericranium! As soon as we begin to

travel, we give up everything to taste. And then we want clear heads.

Clear heads, sir, for pictures, statues, busts, alto relievos, basso

relievos, tablets, monuments, mausoleums....'

'If you go on at that rate, nephew,' interrupted Sir Hugh, holding his

ears, 'you'll put my poor head quite into a whirligig. And it's none of

the deepest already, Lord help me!'

Lynmere now, without ceremony, made off; and Mr. Dubster, left alone

with the baronet, said they might as well proceed to business. 'So pray,

sir, if I may make bold, in the case we come to a right understanding

about the young lady, what do you propose to give her down?'

Sir Hugh, staring, inquired what he meant.

'Why, I mean, sir, what shall you give her at the first? I know she's to

have it all at your demise; but that i'n't the bird in the hand. Now,

when once I know that, I can make my offers, which shall be handsome or

not, according. And that's but fair. So how much can you part with,

sir?'

'Not a guinea!' cried Sir Hugh, with some emotion; 'I can't give her

anything! Mr. Edgar knows that.'

'That's hard, indeed, sir. What nothing for a setting out? And, pray,

sir, what may the sum total be upon your demise?'

'Not a penny!' cried Sir Hugh, with still more agitation: 'Don't you

know I've disinherited her?'

'Disinherited her? why this is bad news enough! And pray, sir, what

for?'

'Nothing! She never offended me in thought, word, nor deed!'

'Well, that's odd enough. And when did you do it, sir?'

'The very week she was nine years old, poor thing! which I shall never

forget as long as I live, being my worst action.'

'Well, this is particular enough! And young squire Tyrold's never heard

a word of it: which is somewhat of a wonder too.'

'Not heard of it? why the whole family know it! I've settled everything

I was worth in the world upon her younger sister, that you saw sitting

by her.'

'Well, if Tom Hicks did not as good as tell me so ever so long ago,

though the young squire said it was all to the contrary: what for, I

don't know; unless to take me in. But he won't find that quite so easy,

asking his pardon. Matrimony's a good thing enough, when it's to help a

man forward: but a person must be a fool indeed, to put himself out of

his way for nothing.'

He then formally wished the baronet a good day, and hastened from the

house, puffed up with vain glory, at his own sagacious precautions,

which had thus happily saved him from being tricked into unprofitable

wedlock.

Mrs. Berlinton now arrived, and, as Camilla was ready, though trembling,

doubtful, apprehensive of the step she was taking, declined alighting. A

general meeting was to take place at the inn: and the baronet, putting a

twenty pound note into her hand, with the most tender blessings parted

with his darling niece. And then, surprised at not seeing Edgar to

breakfast, sent his butler to tell him the history of the excursion.

Lynmere was already set off on horseback: and the party, consisting of

Dr. Orkborne, Miss Margland, Indiana, and Eugenia, followed two hours

after, in the coach of the baronet, which drove from the park as the

chaise entered it with Mr. Tyrold and Lavinia, to supply their places.

BOOK VIII

CHAPTER I

_A Way to make Friends_

When Camilla appeared at the hall-door, a gentleman descended from the

carriage of Mrs. Berlinton, with an air the most melancholy, and eyes

bent to the earth, in the mournful bow with which he offered her his

hand: though, when he had assisted her into the coach, he raised them,

and, turning round, cast upon the mansion a look of desponding fondness,

that immediately brought to her recollection young Melmond, the Oxford

student, and the brother of her new friend.

Mrs. Berlinton received her with tenderness, folding her to her breast,

and declaring life to be now insupportable without her.

The affection of Camilla was nearly reciprocal, but her pleasure had no

chance of equal participation; nor was the suspensive state of her mind

the only impediment; opposite to her in the carriage, and immediately

claiming her attention, was Mrs. Mittin.

The agitating events which had filled up the short interval of her

residence at Cleves, had so completely occupied every faculty, that,

till the affair of the horse involved her in new difficulties, her debts

had entirely flown her remembrance; and the distressing scenes which

immediately succeeded to that forced recollection, made its duration as

short as it was irksome; but the sight of Mrs. Mittin brought it back

with violence to her memory, and flashed it, with shame, upon her

conscience.

The twenty pounds, however, just given her by Sir Hugh, occurred at the

same moment to her thoughts; and she determined to repair her

negligence, by appropriating it into parcels for the payment of all she

owed, before she suffered sleep again to [close] her eyes.

Mrs. Berlinton informed her, that both herself and her brother had been

summoned to Southampton to meet Mrs. Ecton, the aunt by whom she had

been educated, who had just arrived there from Wales, upon some secret

business, necessary for her to hear, but which could not be revealed by

letters.

The journey, though in itself short and pleasant, proved to Camilla long

and wearisome; the beauties of the prospect were acknowledged by her

eye, but her mind, dead to pleasure, refused to give them their merited

effect. To the charms of nature she could not be blind; her fervent

imagination, and the lessons of her youth, combined to do them justice;

but she thought not of them at this moment; hill, vale, or plain, were

uninteresting, however beautiful; it was Edgar she looked for; Edgar,

who thus coldly had suffered her to depart, but who still, it was

possible, might pursue; and hope, ever active, painted him, as she

proceeded, in every distant object that caught her eye, whether living

or inanimate, brightening, from time to time, the roses of her cheeks

with the felicity of a speedy reconciliation; but upon every near

approach, the flattering error was detected, and neither hill, vale, nor

plain, could dispel the disappointment. A fine country, and diversified

views, may soften even the keenest affliction of decided misfortune, and

tranquillise the most gloomy sadness into resignation and composure; but

suspense rejects the gentle palliative; 'tis an absorbent of the

faculties that suffers them to see, hear, and feel only its own

perplexity; and the finer the fibres of the sensibility on which it

seizes, the more exclusive is its despotism; doubt, in a fervent mind,

from the rapidity of its evolutions between fear in its utmost

despondence, and hope in its fullest rapture, is little short of

torture.

They drove immediately to an elegant house, situated upon a small

eminence, half a mile without the town of Southampton, which had already

been secured; and Mrs. Berlinton, as soon as she had chosen the

pleasantest apartment it afforded for Camilla, and suffered Mrs. Mittin

to choose the next pleasant for herself, went, accompanied by her

brother, to the lodging of Mrs. Ecton.

Left alone, Camilla stationed herself at a window, believing she meant

to look at the prospect; but her eye, faithful to her heart, roved up

and down the high road, and took in only chaises or horsemen, till Mrs.

Mittin, with her customary familiarity, came into the room. 'Well, my

dear miss,' she cried, 'you're welcome to Southampton, and welcome to

Mrs. Berlinton; she's a nice lady as ever I knew; I suppose you're

surprised to see us so great together? but I'll tell you how it came

about. You must know, just as you was gone, I happened to be in the

book shop when she came in, and asked for a book; the Peruvan Letters

she called it; and it was not at home, and she looked quite vexed, for

she said she had looked the catalogue up and down, and saw nothing else

she'd a mind to; so I thought it would be a good opportunity to oblige

her, and be a way to make a prodigious genteel acquaintance besides; so

I took down the name, and I found out the lady that had got the book,

and I made her a visit, and I told her it was particular wanted by a

lady that had a reason; so she let me have it, and I took it to my

pretty lady, who was so pleased, she did not know how to thank me: So

this got me footing in the house; and there I heard, amongst her people

she was coming to Southampton, and was to call for you, my dear miss; so

when I found she had not her coach full, I ask'd her to give me a cast;

for I told her you'd be particular glad to see me, as we'd some business

to settle together, that was a secret between only us two; so she said

she would do anything to give you pleasure; so then I made free to ask

her to give me a night's lodging, till I could find out some friend to

be at; for I'd a vast mind to come to Southampton, as I could do it so

reasonable, for I like to go every where. And I dare say, my dear miss,

if you'll tell her 'twill oblige you, she'll make me the compliment to

let me stay all the time, for I know nobody here; though I don't fear

making friends, go where I will. And you know, my dear miss, you can do

no less by me, considering what I've done for you; for I've kept all the

good people quiet about your debts; and they say you may pay them when

you will, as I told them you was such a rich heiress; which Mr. Dubster

let me into the secret of, for he had had it from your brother.'

Camilla now experienced the extremest repentance and shame, to find

herself involved in any obligation with a character so forward, vulgar,

and encroaching, and to impose such a person, through the abuse of her

name and influence, upon the time and patience of Mrs. Berlinton.

The report spread by Lionel she immediately disavowed, and, producing

her twenty pound bank note, begged Mrs. Mittin would have the goodness

to get it changed for her, and to discharge her accounts without delay.

Surprised by this readiness, and struck by the view of the note, Mrs.

Mittin imputed to mere reserve the denial of her expected wealth, but

readily promised to get in the bills, and see her clear.

Camilla would now have been left alone; but Mrs. Mittin thought of

nothing less than quitting her, and she knew not how to bid her depart.

It was uncertain when Mrs. Berlinton could return; to obviate,

therefore, in some measure, the fatigue of such conversation, Camilla

proposed walking.

It was still but two o'clock, and the weather was delicious; every place

that opened to any view, presented some prospect that was alluring;

Camilla, notwithstanding her anxiety, was caught, and at intervals, at

least, forgot all within, from admiration of all without.

Mrs. Mittin led immediately to the town, and Camilla was struck with its

neatness, and surprised by its populousness. Mrs. Mittin assured her it

was nothing to London, and only wished she could walk her from

Charing-cross to Temple-bar, just to shew her what it was to see a

little of the world.

'But now, my dear,' she cried, 'the thing is to find out what we've got

to look at; so don't let's go on without knowing what we're about;

however, these shops are all so monstrous smart, 'twill be a pleasure to

go into them, and ask the good people what there's to see in the town.'

This pretext proved so fertile to her of entertainment, in the

opportunity it afforded of taking a near view of the various commodities

exposed to sale, that while she entered almost every shop, with

inquiries of what was worth seeing, she attended to no answer nor

information, but having examined and admired all the goods within sight

or reach, walked off, to obtain, by similar means, a similar privilege

further on; boasting to Camilla, that, by this clever device they might

see all that was smartest, without the expence of buying any thing.

It is possible that this might safely have been repeated, from one end

of the town to the other, had Mrs. Mittin been alone; and she seemed

well disposed to make the experiment; but Camilla, who, absent and

absorbed, accompanied without heeding her, was of a figure and

appearance not quite so well adapted for indulging with impunity such

unbridled curiosity. The shopkeepers, who, according to their several

tastes or opinions, gave their directions to the churches, the quays,

the market-place, the antique gates, the town-hall, &c. involuntarily

looked at her as they answered the questioner, and not satisfied with

the short view, followed to the door, to look again; this presently

produced an effect that, for the whole length of the High-street, was

amply ridiculous; every one perceiving that, whatsoever had been his

recommendation, whether to the right, to the left, or straight forward,

the two inquirers went no further than into the next shop, whence they

regularly drew forth either the master or the man to make another starer

at their singular proceeding.

Some supposed they were only seeking to attract notice; others thought

they were deranged in mind; and others, again, imagined they were

shoplifters, and hastened back to their counters, to examine what was

missing of their goods.

Two men of the two last persuasions communicated to one another their

opinions, each sustaining his own with a positiveness that would have

ended in a quarrel, had it not been accommodated by a wager. To settle

this became now so important, that business gave way to speculation, and

the contending parties, accompanied by a young perfumer as arbitrator,

leaving their affairs in the hands of their wives, or their domestics,

issued forth from their repositories, to pursue and watch the curious

travellers; laying bets by the way at almost every shop as they

proceeded, till they reached the quay, where the ladies made a full

stand, and their followers opened a consultation how best to decide the

contest.

Mr. Firl, a sagacious old linen-draper, who concluded them to be

shoplifters, declared he would keep aloof, for he should detect them

best when they least suspected they were observed.

Mr. Drim, a gentle and simple haberdasher, who believed their senses

disordered, made a circuit to face and examine them, frequently,

however, looking back, to see that no absconding trick was played him by

his friends. When he came up to them, the pensive and absorbed look of

Camilla struck him as too particular to be natural; and in Mrs. Mittin

he immediately fancied he perceived something wild, if not insane. In

truth, an opinion preconceived of her derangement might easily authorise

strong suspicions of confirmation, from the contented volubility with

which she incessantly ran on, without waiting for answerers, or even

listeners; and his observation had not taught him, that the loquacious

desire only to speak. They exact time, not attention.

Mrs. Mittin, soon observing the curiosity with which he examined them,

looked at him so hard in return, talking the whole time, in a quick low

voice, to Camilla, upon his oddity, that, struck with a direful panic,

in the persuasion she was marking him for some mischief, he turned short

about to get back to his companions; leaving Mrs. Mittin with precisely

the same opinion of himself which he had imbibed of her.

'Well, my dear,' cried she, 'this is one of the most miraclous

adventures I've met with yet; as sure as you're alive that man that

stares so is not right in the head! for else what should he run away

for, all in such a hurry, after looking at us so particular for nothing?

I'll assure you, I think the best thing we can do, is to get off as fast

as we can, for fear of the worst.'

They then sped their way from the quay; but, in turning down the first

passage to get out of sight, they were led into one of the little rooms

prepared for the accommodation of bathers.

This seemed so secure, as well as pleasant, that Camilla, soothed by the

tranquillity with which she could contemplate the noble Southampton

water and its fine banks, sat down at the window, and desired not to

walk any further.

The fright with which Mr. Drim had retreated, gained no proselyte to his

opinion; Mr. Girt, the perfumer, asserted, significantly, they were only

idle travellers, of light character; and Mr. Firl, when in dodging them,

he saw they went into a bathing room, offered to double his wager that

it was to make some assortment of their spoil.

This was accepted, and it was agreed that one should saunter in the

adjoining passages to see which way they turned upon coming out, while

the two others should patrol the beach, to watch their disappearance

from the windows.

Mrs. Mittin, meanwhile, was as much amused, though with different

objects, as Camilla. A large mixt party of ladies and gentlemen, who had

ordered a vessel for sailing down the water, which was not yet ready,

now made their appearance; and their dress, their air of enjoyment,

their outcries of impatience, the frisky gaiety of some, the noisy

merriment of others, seemed to Mrs. Mittin marks of so much grandeur and

happiness, that all her thoughts were at work to devise some contrivance

for becoming of their acquaintance.

Camilla also surveyed, but almost without seeing them; for the only

image of her mind now unexpectedly met her view; Dr. Marchmont and

Edgar, just arrived, had patrolled to the beach, where Edgar, whose

eye, from his eagerness, appeared to be every where in a moment,

immediately perceived her; they both bowed, and Dr. Marchmont, amazed by

the air and figure of her companion, inquired if Mrs. Berlinton had any

particularly vulgar relation to whom she was likely to commit her fair

guest.

Edgar, who had seen only herself, could not now forbear another glance;

but the aspect of Mrs. Mittin, without Mrs. Berlinton, or any other more

dignified or fitting protectress, was both unaccountable and unpleasant

to him; he recollected having seen her at Tunbridge, where the careless

temper, and negligent manners of Mrs. Arlbery, made all approaches easy,

that answered any purpose of amusement or ridicule; but he could not

conceive how Mrs. Berlinton, or Camilla herself, could be joined by such

a companion.