his wager; yet, thinking it authorised him to seek some information,
approached them, and taking off his hat, said: 'You seem to be noticing
those two ladies up there; pray, gentlemen, if you've no objection, who
may they be?'
'Why do you ask, sir?' cried Edgar, sternly.
'Why, we've a wager depending upon them, sir, and I believe there's no
gentleman will refuse to help another about a wager.'
'A wager?' repeated Edgar, wishing, but vainly, to manifest no
curiosity; 'what inducement could you have to lay a wager about them?'
'Why, I believe, sir, there's nobody's a better judge than me what I've
laid about; though I may be out, to be sure, if you know the ladies; but
I've seen so much of their tricks, in my time, that they must be pretty
sharp before they'll over-reach me.'
'What tricks? who must be sharp? who are you talking of?'
'Shoplifters, sir.'
'Shoplifters! what do you mean?'
'No harm, sir; I may be out, to be sure, as I say; and if so, I ask
pardon; only, as we've laid the wager, I think I may speak before I
pay.'
The curiosity of Edgar would have been converted into ridicule, had he
been less uneasy at seeing with whom Camilla was thus associated; Mrs.
Mittin might certainly be a worthy woman, and, if so, must merit every
kindness that could be shewn her; but her air and manner so strongly
displayed the low bred society to which she had been accustomed, that
he foresaw nothing but improper acquaintance, or demeaning adventures,
that could ensue from such a connection at a public place.
Dr. Marchmont demanded what had given rise to this suspicion.
Mr. Firl answered, that they had been into every shop in the town,
routing over every body's best goods, yet not laying out a penny.
Nothing of this could Edgar comprehend, except that Camilla had suffered
herself to be led about by Mrs. Mittin, entirely at her pleasure; but
all further inquiry was stopt, by the voluntary and pert junction of
Girt, the young perfumer, who, during this period, had by no means been
idle; for perceiving, in the group waiting for a vessel, a certain
customer by whom he knew such a subject would be well received, he
contrived to excite his curiosity to ask some questions, which could
only be satisfied by the history of the wager, and his own opinion that
both parties were out.
This drew all eyes to the bathing room; and new bets soon were
circulated, consisting of every description of conjecture, or even
possibility, except that the two objects in question were innocent: and
for that, in a set of fourteen, only one was found who defended Camilla,
though her face seemed the very index of purity, which still more
strongly was painted upon it than beauty, or even than youth. Such is
the prevalent disposition to believe in general depravity, that while
those who are debased themselves find a consolation in thinking others
equally worthless, those even, who are of a better sort, nourish a
secret vanity in supposing few as good as themselves; and fully, without
reflection, the fair candour of their minds, by aiding that insidious
degeneracy, which robs the community of all confidence in virtue.
The approach of the perfumer to Edgar had all the hardiness of vulgar
elation, bestowed, at this moment, by the recent encouragement of having
been permitted to propagate his facetious opinions in a society of
gentlefolks; for though to one only amongst them, a young man of large
fortune, by whom he was particularly patronised, he had presumed
verbally to address himself, he had yet the pleasure to hear his account
repeated from one to another, till not a person of the company escaped
hearing it.
'My friend Firl's been telling you, I suppose, sir,' said he, to Edgar,
'of his foolish wager? but, take my word for it....'
Here Edgar, who again had irresistibly looked up at the room, saw that
the three gentlemen had entered it; alarmed lest these surmises should
be productive of impertinence to Camilla, he darted quickly from the
beach to her immediate protection.
But the rapidity of his wishes were ill seconded by the uncertainty of
his footsteps; and while, with eyes eagerly wandering all around, he
hastily pushed forward, he was stopt by Mr. Drim, who told him to take
care how he went on, for, in one of those bathing houses, to the best of
his belief, there were two crazy women, one melancholy, and one stark
wild, that had just, as he supposed, escaped from their keepers.
'How shall I find my way, then, to another of the bathing houses?' cried
Edgar.
Mr. Drim undertook to shew him where he might turn, but said he must not
lose sight of the door, because he had a bottle of port depending upon
it; his neighbour, Mr. Firl, insisting they were only shoplifters.
Edgar here stopt short and stared.
Drim then assured him it was what he could not believe, as nothing was
missing; though Mr. Firl would have it that it was days and days,
sometimes, before people found out what was gone; but he was sure,
himself, they were touched in the head, by their going about so wild,
asking everybody the same questions, and minding nobody's answers.
Edgar, convinced now Camilla was here again implicated, broke with
disgust from the man, and rushed to the door he charged him to avoid.
CHAPTER II
_A Rage of Obliging_
Camilla, from the instant she had perceived Edgar, had been in the
utmost emotion, from doubt if his journey were to seek a reconciliation,
or only to return her letters, and take a lasting farewell. Her first
feeling at his sight urged her to retire: but something of a softer
nature speedily interfered, representing, if now he should join her,
what suffering might mutually be saved by an immediate conference. She
kept, therefore, her seat, looking steadily straight down the water, and
denying herself one moment's glance at anything, or person, upon the
beach: little imagining she ingrossed, herself, the attention of all who
paraded it. But, when the insinuations of the flippant perfumer had once
made her looked at, her beauty, her apparently unprotected situation,
and the account of the wager, seemed to render her an object to be
stared at without scruple.
Mrs. Mittin saw how much they were observed, but Camilla, unheeding her
remarks, listened only to hear if any footsteps approached; but when, at
last, some struck her ears, they were accompanied by an unknown voice,
so loud and clamorously jovial, that, disturbed, she looked round ...
and saw the door violently flung open, and three persons, dressed like
gentlemen, force their way into the small dwelling place.
Mr. Halder, the leader of this triumvirate, was the particular patron of
Girt, the young perfumer; and, though his superior in birth and riches,
was scarcely upon a par with him, from wilful neglect, in education; and
undoubtedly beneath him in decency and conduct, notwithstanding young
Girt piqued himself far less upon such sentimental qualifications, than
upon his skill in cosmetics, and had less respect for unadulterated
morals, than unadulterated powder.
The second who entered, was, in every particular, still less defensible:
he was a peer of the realm; he had a daughter married, and his age
entitled him to be the grandfather of young Halder. In point of fortune,
speculatists deemed them equal; for though the estate of Halder was as
yet unincumbered with the mortgages that hung upon that of Lord
Valhurst, they computed, with great exactness, the term of its
superiority, since already he had inlisted in the jockey meetings, and
belonged to the gaming clubs.
The third, a young man of a serious, but pleasing demeanour, was rather
an attendant than a partner in this intrusion. He was the only one of
the whole party to whom the countenance of Camilla had announced
innocence; and when Halder, instigated by the assertions of the
facetious Girt, proposed the present measure, and Lord Valhurst, caught
by the youthful beauty of the fair subject of discussion, acceded, this
single champion stood forth, and modestly, yet firmly, declaring his
opinion they were mistaken, accompanied them with a view to protect
her, if he himself were right.
Boisterously entering, Halder addressed at once to Camilla, such
unceremonious praise of her beauty, that, affrighted and offended, she
hastily seized the arm of Mrs. Mittin, and, in a voice of alarm, though
with an air of command that admitted no doubt of her seriousness, and no
appeal from her resolution, said, 'Let us go home, Mrs. Mittin,
immediately.'
Simple as were these words, their manner had an effect upon Halder to
awe and distance him. Beauty, in the garb of virtue, is rather
formidable than attractive to those who are natively unenlightened, as
well as habitually degenerate: though, over such as have ever known
better sentiments, it frequently retains its primeval power, even in
their darkest declension of depravity.
But while Halder, repulsed, stood back, and the young champion, with an
air the most respectful, made way for her to pass; Lord Valhurst,
shutting the door, planted himself against it.
Seeing terror now take possession of every feature of her face, her
determined protector called out: 'Make way, my Lord, I beg!' and offered
her his hand. But Camilla, equally frightened at them all, shrunk
appalled from his assistance, and turned towards the window, with an
intention of demanding help from Edgar, whom she supposed still on the
beach; but the peer, slowly moving from the door, said he was the last
to mean to disconcert the young lady, and only wished to stop her till
he could call for his carriage, that he might see her safe wherever she
wished to go.
Camilla had no doubt of the sincerity of this proposal, but would accept
no aid from a stranger, even though an old man, while she hoped to
obtain that of Edgar. Edgar, however, she saw not, and fear is generally
precipitate: she concluded him gone; concluded herself deserted, and,
from knowing neither, equally fearing both the young men, inclined
towards Lord Valhurst; who, with delighted surprise, was going to take
her under his care, when Edgar rushed forward.
The pleasure that darted into her eyes announced his welcome. Halder,
from his reception, thought the enigma of his own ill success solved;
the other youth, supposing him her brother, no longer sought to
interfere; but Lord Valhurst exhibited signs of such irrepressible
mortification, that inexperience itself could not mistake the
dishonourable views of his offered services, since, to see her in
safety, was so evidently not their purpose. Camilla, looking at him with
the horror he so justly excited, gave her hand to Edgar, who had
instantly claimed it, and, without one word being uttered by either,
hastily walked away with him, nimbly accompanied by Mrs. Mittin.
The young man, whose own mind was sufficiently pure to make him give
easy credit to the purity of another, was shocked at his undeserved
implication in so gross an attack, and at his failure of manifesting the
laudable motive which had made him one of the triumvirate; and, looking
after her with mingled admiration and concern, 'Indeed, gentlemen,' he
cried, 'you have been much to blame. You have affronted a young lady who
carries in the whole of her appearance the marks of meriting respect.'
The sensibility of Lord Valhurst was not of sufficient magnitude to
separate into two courses: the little he possessed was already occupied
by his disappointment, in losing the beautiful prey he believed just
falling into his hands, and he had no emotion, therefore, to bestow upon
his young reprover. But Halder, who, to want of feeling, added want of
sense, roared out, with rude raillery, a gross, which he thought witty
attack, both of the defender and the defended.
The young man, with the proud probity of unhackneyed sentiment, made a
vindication of his uncorrupt intentions; which produced but louder
mirth, and coarser incredulity. The contest, however, was wholly
unequal; one had nerves of the most irritable delicacy; the other had
never yet, by any sensation, nor any accident, been admonished that
nerves made any part of the human composition: in proportion, therefore,
as one became more offended, the other grew more callous, till the
chivalry of indignant honour, casting prudence, safety, and forbearance
away, dictated a hasty challenge, which was accepted with a hoarse laugh
of brutal senselessness of danger. Courage is of another description. It
risks life with heroism; but it is only to preserve or pursue something,
without which the charm of life were dissolved: it meets death with
steadiness; but it prepares for immortality with reverence and emotion.
* * * * *
Edgar and Camilla continued their walk in a silence painful to both, but
which neither knew how first to break; each wished with earnestness an
opening to communication and confidence; but, mutually shocked by the
recent adventure, Edgar waited the absence of Mrs. Mittin, to point out
the impropriety and insufficiency of such a guard; and Camilla, still
aghast with terror, had no power of any sort to begin a discourse.
Their taciturnity, if not well supplied, was, at least, well contrasted
by the volubility of Mrs. Mittin, which, as in the bathing house it had
been incessant, in declaring, to the three intruders, that both she and
the other young lady were persons of honour, was now no less unremitting
in boasting how well she had checked and kept them in order.
The horror of the attack she had just escaped became soon but a
secondary suffering to Camilla, though, at the moment, it had impressed
her more terribly than any actual event of her life, or any scene her
creative imagination had ever painted; yet, however dreadful, it was now
past; but who could tell the end of what remained? the mute distance of
Edgar, her uncertainty of his intentions, her suspicions of his wished
secession, the severe task she thought necessary to perform of giving
him his liberty, with the anguish of a total inability to judge whether
such a step would recall his tenderness, or precipitate his retreat,
were suggestions which quickly succeeded, and, in a very short time,
wholly domineered over every other.
When they arrived at the house, Edgar demanded if he might hope for the
honour of being presented, as a friend of the family, to Mrs. Berlinton.
Reviving, though embarrassed, she looked assent, and went forward to
inquire if Mrs. Berlinton were come home.
The servant answered no; but delivered her a letter from that lady; she
took it with a look of distress whether or not to invite Edgar to enter,
which the, at this period, welcome officiousness of Mrs. Mittin
relieved, by saying, 'Come, let us all come in, and make the parlour a
little comfortable against Mrs. Berlinton comes home; for, I dare say,
there's nothing as it should be. These lodging-houses always want a heap
of things one never thinks of before hand.'
They then all three entered, and Mrs. Mittin, who saw, she said, a
thousand ways by which she might serve and oblige Mrs. Berlinton, by
various suggestions, and even directions, which she hazarded against her
return, busied herself to arrange the two parlours to her satisfaction;
and, then, went up stairs, to settle, also, all there; making abundant
apologies for leaving them, and assuring them she would be back again as
soon as she possibly could get all in order.
Her departure was a moment of extreme confusion to Camilla, who
considered it as an invitation to her great scheme of rejection, but who
stammered something upon every other subject, to keep that off. She
looked at her letter, wondered what it could contain, could not imagine
why Mrs. Berlinton should write when they must so soon meet; and spent
in conjectures upon its contents the time which Edgar besought her to
bestow upon their perusal.
Nothing gives so much strength to an adversary as the view of timidity
in his opponent. Edgar grew presently composed, and felt equal to his
purposed expostulation.
'You decline reading your letter till I am gone?' cried he; 'I must,
therefore, hasten away. Yet, before I go, I earnestly wish once more to
take upon me the office formerly allowed me, and to represent, with
simple sincerity, my apprehensions upon what I have observed this
morning.'
The beginning of this speech had made Camilla break the seal of her
letter; but its conclusion agitated her too much for reading it.
'Is this silence,' said he, trying to smile, 'to repress me as
arrogant, ... or to disregard me as impertinent?'
'Neither!' she answered, forcing herself to look towards him with
cheerfulness; 'it is merely ... attention.'
'You are very good, and I will try to be brief, that I may put your
patience to no longer proof than I can avoid. You know, already, all I
can urge concerning Mrs. Berlinton; how little I wonder at the
promptness of your admiration; yet how greatly I fear for the permanence
of your esteem. In putting yourself under her immediate and sole
protection, you have shewn me the complete dissonance of our judgments
upon this subject; but I do not forget that, though you had the goodness
to hear me, you had the right to decide for yourself. Trust indeed, even
against warning, is so far more amiable than suspicion, that it must
always, even though it prove unfortunate, call for praise rather than
censure.'
The confusion of Camilla was now converted into self-reproach. What she
thought coldness, she had resented; what appeared to her to be
haughtiness, she had resisted; but truth, in the form of gentleness,
brought her instantly to reason, and reason could only resume its
empire, to represent as rash and imprudent an expedition so repugnant,
in its circumstances, to the wishes and opinions of the person whose
approbation was most essential to her happiness. Edgar had paused; and
her every impulse led to a candid recognition of what she felt to be
wrong; but her precarious situation with him, the report of his intended
flight by Jacob, the letters still detained of Sir Sedley Clarendel, and
no explanation demanded, by which she could gather if his plighted
honour were not now his only tie with her, curbed her design, depressed
her courage, and, silently, she let him proceed.
'Upon this subject, therefore, I must say no more, except to hint a
wish, that the apprehensions which first induced me to name it may,
unbidden, occur as timely heralds to exertion, should any untoward
circumstances point to danger, alarm, or impropriety.'
The new, but strong friendship of Camilla was alarmed for its delicacy
by these words. The diffidence she felt, from conscious error, for
herself, extended not to Mrs. Berlinton, whom, since she found
guiltless, she believed to be blameless. She broke forth, therefore,
into a warm eulogy, which her agitation rendered eloquent, while her own
mind and spirits were relieved and revived, by this flight from her
mortified self, to the friend she thought deserving her most fervent
justification.
Edgar listened attentively, and his eyes, though they expressed much of
serious concern, shewed also an irrepressible admiration of an
enthusiasm so ardent for a female friend of so much beauty.
'May she always merit this generous warmth!' cried he; 'which must have
excited my best wishes for her welfare, even if I had been insensible to
her own claims upon every man of feeling. But I had meant, at this time,
to confine my ungrateful annotations to another ... to the person who
had just quitted the room.'
'You do not mean to name her with Mrs. Berlinton? to imagine it possible
I can have for her any similar regard? or any, indeed, at all, but such
common good-will as all sorts and classes of people are entitled to, who
are well meaning?'
'Here, at least, then,' said Edgar, with a sigh half suppressed, 'our
opinions may be consonant. No; I designed no such disgraceful parallel
for your elegant favourite. My whole intention is to remonstrate ... can
you pardon so plain a word?... against your appearing in public with a
person so ill adapted to insure you the respect that is so every way
your due.'
'I had not the smallest idea, believe me, of appearing in public. I
merely walked out to see the town, and to beguile, in a stroll, time,
which, in this person's society, hung heavy upon me at home, in the
absence of Mrs. Berlinton.'
The concise simplicity of this innocent account, banished, in a moment,
all severity of judgment; and Edgar, expressively thanking her, rose,
and was approaching her, though scarcely knowing with what purpose, when
Mrs. Mittin burst into the room, exclaiming: 'Well, my dear, you'll
never guess how many things I have done since I left you. In the first
place, there was never a wash-ball; in the next place, not a napkin nor
a towel was in its proper place; then the tea-things were forgot; and as
to spoons, not one could I find. And now, I've a mind to go myself to a
shop I took good notice of, and get her a little almond powder for her
nice white hands; which, I dare say, will please her. I've thought of a
hundred things at least. I dare say I shall quite win her heart. And I'm
sure of my money again, if I lay out never so much. And I don't know
what I would not do for such a good lady.'
During this harangue, Camilla, ashamed of her want of resolution,
secretly vowed, that, if again left alone with him, she would not lose a
moment in restoring him his liberty, that with dignity she might once
more receive, or with fortitude for ever resign it. She thought herself,
at this moment, capable of either; but she had only thought it, since
his softened look and air had made her believe she had nothing to fear
from the alternative.
Mrs. Mittin soon went, though her continued and unmeaning chattery made
the short term of her stay appear long.
Each eager upon their own plan, both then involuntarily arose.
Camilla spoke first. 'I have something,' she cried, 'to say, ...' but her
voice became so husky, the inarticulate sounds died away unheard, and
blushing at so feeble an opening, she strove, under the auspices of a
cough, to disguise that she had spoken at all, for the purpose of
beginning, in a more striking manner, again.
This succeeded with Edgar at this moment, for he had heard her voice,
not her words: he began, therefore, himself. 'This good lady,' he said,
'seems bit with the rage of obliging, though not, I think, so
heroically, as much to injure her interest. But surely she flatters
herself with somewhat too high a recompence? The heart of Mrs. Berlinton
is not, I fancy, framed for such a conquerer. But how, at the same time,
is it possible conversation such as this should be heard under her roof?
And how can it have come to pass that such a person....'
'Talk of her,' interrupted Camilla, recovering her breath, 'some other
time. Let me now inquire ... have you burnt ... I hope so!... those
foolish ... letters ... I put into your hands?...'
The countenance of Edgar was instantly overclouded. The mention of those
letters brought fresh to his heart the bitterest, the most excruciating
and intolerable pang it had ever experienced; it brought Camilla to his
view no longer artless, pure, and single-minded, but engaged to, or
trifling with, one man, while seriously accepting another. 'No, madam,'
he solemnly said, 'I have not presumed so far. Their answers are not
likely to meet with so violent a death, and it seemed to me that one
part of the correspondence should be preserved for the elucidation of
the other.'
Camilla felt stung by this reply, and tremulously answered, 'Give me
them back, then, if you please, and I will take care to see them all
demolished together, in the same flames. Meanwhile....'
'Are you sure,' interrupted Edgar, 'such a conflagration will be
permitted? Does the man live who would have the philosophy ... the
insensibility I must rather style it--ever to resign, after once
possessing, marks so distinguishing of esteem? O, Camilla! I, at least,
could not be that man!'
Cut to the soul by this question, which, though softened by the last
phrase, she deemed severely cruel, she hastily exclaimed: 'Philosophy I
have no right to speak of ... but as to insensibility ... who is the man
that ever more can surprise me by its display? Let me take, however,
this opportunity....'
A footman, opening the door, said, his lady had sent to beg an answer to
her letter.
Camilla, in whom anger was momentary, but the love of justice permanent,
rejoiced at an interruption which prevented her from speaking, with
pique and displeasure, a sentence that must lose all its purpose if not
uttered with mildness. She would write, she said, immediately; and,
bidding the man get her pen and ink, went to the window to read her
letter; with a formal bow of apology to Edgar as she passed him.
'I have made you angry?' cried he, when the man was gone; 'and I hate
myself to have caused you a moment's pain. But you must feel for me,
Camilla, in the wound you have inflicted! you know not the disorder of
mind produced by a sudden, unlooked-for transition from felicity to
perplexity, ... from serenity to misery!...'
Camilla felt touched, yet continued reading, or rather rapidly repeating
to herself the words of her letter, without comprehending, or even
seeking to comprehend, the meaning of one sentence.
He found himself quite unequal to enduring her displeasure; his own, all
his cautions, all Dr. Marchmont's advice, were forgotten; and tenderly
following her, 'Have I offended,' he cried, 'past forgiveness? Is
Camilla immoveable? and is the journey from which I fondly hoped to date
the renewal of every hope, the termination of every doubt, the period of
all suffering and sorrow....'
He stopt abruptly, from the entrance of the servant with pen and ink,
and the interruption was critical: it called him to his self-command: he
stammered out that he would not impede her writing; and, though in
palpable confusion, took his leave: yet, at the street-door, he gave a
ticket with his name, to the servant who attended him, for Mrs.
Berlinton; and, with his best respects, desired she might be told he
should do himself the honour to endeavour to see her in the evening.
The recollection of Edgar came too late to his aid to answer its
intended purpose. The tender avowal which had escaped him to Camilla, of
the view of his journey, had first with astonishment struck her ear, and
next with quick enchantment vibrated to her heart, which again it
speedily taught to beat with its pristine vivacity; and joy, spirit, and
confidence expelled in a breath all guests but themselves.
CHAPTER III
_A Pleasant Adventure_
Camilla was again called upon for her note, before she had read the
letter it was to answer; but relieved now from the pressure of her own
terrifying apprehensions, she gave it complete and willing attention.
It contained four sides of paper, closely yet elegantly written in the
language of romantic sentiment. Mrs. Berlinton said she had spent, as
yet, only a few minutes with her aunt; but they had been awfully
important; and since she had exacted from her a promise to stay the
whole day, she could not deny her disappointed friendship the transient
solace of a paper conversation, to sooth the lingering interval of this
unexpected absence. 'My soul pines to unburden the weight of its sorrows
into thy sympathising bosom, my gentlest friend; but oh! there let them
not sojourn! receive but to lighten, listen but to commiserate, and
then, far, far thence dismiss them, retaining but the remembrance thou
hast dismissed them with consolation.' She then bewailed the time lost
to soft communication and confidence, in their journey, from the
presence of others; for though one was a brother she so truly loved, she
found, notwithstanding the tenderness of his nature, he had the
prejudices of a man upon man's prerogatives, and her woes called for
soothing not arguments; and the other, she briefly added, was but an
accidental passenger. ''Tis in thee only, O my beauteous friend! I would
trust the sad murmurs of my irreversible and miserable destiny, of which
I have learnt but this moment the cruel and desperate secret cause.' She
reserved, however, the discovery for their meeting, and called upon her
pity for her unfortunate brother, as deeply involved in his future
views, as she in her past, by this mystery: 'And have I written this
much,' she burst forth, 'without speaking of the cherished correspondent
whom so often I have described to thee? Ah! believe me not faithless to
that partner of my chosen esteem, that noble, that resistless possessor
of my purest friendship! No, charming Camilla, think not so degradingly
of her whom fate, in its sole pitying interval, has cast into thy arms.'
Two pages then ensued with this exclusive encomium, painting him chief
in every virtue, and master of every grace. She next expressed her
earnestness to see Indiana, [who] Camilla had told her would be at
Southampton. 'Present me, I conjure thee, to the fair and amiable
enslaver of my unhappy brother! I die to see, to converse with her, to
catch from her lovely lips the modest wisdom with which he tells me they
teem; to read in her speaking eyes the intelligence which he assures me
illumines them.' She concluded with desiring her to give what orders she
pleased for the coach, and the servants, and to pass the day with her
friends.
Camilla, whose own sensations were now revived to happiness, read the
letter with all the sympathy it claimed, and felt her eyes fill with
generous tears at the contrast of their situations; yet she highly
blamed the tenderness expressed for the unknown correspondent, though
its innocence she was sure must vanquish even Edgar, since its so
constant avowal proved it might be published to all mankind. She
answered her in language nearly as affectionate, though less inflated
than her own, and resolved to support her with Edgar, till her sweetness
and purity should need no champions but themselves. She was ashamed of
the species of expectation raised for Indiana, yet knew not how to
interfere in Melmond's idea of her capacity, lest it might seem unkind
to represent its fallaciousness; but she was glad to find her soft
friend seemed to have a strict guardian in her brother; and wished
eagerly to communicate to Edgar a circumstance which she was sure would
be so welcome to him.
Impatient to see Eugenia, she accepted the offer of the carriage, and
desirous to escape Mrs. Mittin, begged to have it immediately; but that
notable person came to the door at the same time as the coach, and,
without the smallest ceremony, said she would accompany her to the
hotel, in order to take the opportunity of making acquaintance with her
friends.
Courage frequently, at least in females, becomes potent as an agent,
where it has been feeble as a principal. Camilla, though she had wished,
upon her own account, to repress Mrs. Mittin in the morning, had been
too timid for such an undertaking; but now, in her anxiety to oblige
Edgar, she gathered resolution for declining her company. She then
found, as is generally the case with the fearful, the task less
difficult than she had expected; for Mrs. Mittin, content with a promise
self-made, that the introduction should take place the next day, said
she would go and help Mrs. Berlinton's woman to unpack her lady's
things, which would make a useful friend for her in the house, for a
thousand odd matters.
* * * * *
The carriage of Sir Hugh was just driving off as Camilla arrived at the
hotel.
She hurried from Mrs. Berlinton's coach, demanding which way the company
was gone; and being answered, by a passing waiter, up stairs, ran on at
once, without patience or thought for asking if she should turn to the
right or left; till seeing a gentleman standing still upon the landing
place, and leaning upon the bannisters, she was retreating, to desire a
conductor, when she perceived it was Dr. Orkborne; who, while the ladies
were looking at accommodations, and inquiring about lodgings, in
profound cogitation, and with his tablets in his hands, undisturbed by
the various noises around him, and unmoved by the various spectators
continually passing and repassing, was finishing a period which he had
begun in the coach for his great work.
Camilla, cheerfully greeting him, begged to know which way she should
find Eugenia; but, making her a sign not to speak to him, he wrote on.
Accustomed to his manner, and brought up to respect whatever belonged to
study, from the studious life and turn of her father, she obeyed the
mute injunction, and waited quietly by his side; till, tired of the
delay, though unwilling to interrupt him, she glided softly about the
passage, watching and examining if she could see any of the party, yet
fearing to offend or mortify him if she called for a waiter.
While straying about thus, as far off as she could go without losing
sight of Dr. Orkborne, a door she had just passed was flung open, and
she saw young Halder, whose licentious insolence had so much alarmed her
in the bathing-house, stroam out, yawning, stretching, and swearing
unmeaningly, but most disgustingly, at every step.
Terrified at his sight, she went on, as she could not get to the Doctor
without passing him; but the youth, recollecting her immediately, called
out: 'Ah, ha! are you there again, you little vixen?' and pursued her.
'Dr. Orkborne! Dr. Orkborne!' she rather screamed than said, 'pray come
this way! I conjure--I beseech--I entreat--Dr. Orkborne!--'
The Doctor, catching nothing of this but his name, querulously
exclaimed: 'You molest me much!' but without raising his eyes from his
tablets; while Halder, at the appeal, cried: 'Ay, ay, Doctor! keep your
distance, Doctor! you are best where you are, Doctor, I can tell you,
Doctor!'
Camilla, then, too much scared to be aware she ran a far greater risk
than she escaped, desperately sought refuge by opening the nearest door;
though by the sudden noises upon the stairs, and in all the adjoining
passages, it seemed as if Dr. Orkborne were the only one not alarmed by
her cries.
No one, however, could approach so soon as the person of whose chamber
she had burst the door; who was an old gentleman, of a good and lively
countenance, who promptly presenting himself, looked at her with some
surprise, but good humouredly asked her what she was pleased to want in
his room.
'That gentleman,' she cried, panting and meaning to point to Dr.
Orkborne; 'that gentleman I want, sir!' but such a medley of waiters,
company, and servants, had in a moment assembled in the space between
them, that the Doctor was no longer to be discerned.
'Do you only open my door, then,' said he, drily, 'to tell me you want
somebody else?'
Yet when Halder, vowing he owed her an ill turn for which she should
pay, would have seized her by the hand, he protected with his own arm,
saying: 'Fie, boy, fie! let the girl alone! I don't like violence.'
A gentleman now, forcing himself through the crowd, exclaimed: 'Miss
Camilla Tyrold! Is it possible! what can you do here, madam?'
It was Dr. Marchmont, whom the affrighted Camilla, springing forward,
could only answer in catching by the arm.
'Tyrold!' repeated the old gentleman; 'Is her name Tyrold?'
Sorry now to have pronounced it in this mixt company, Dr. Marchmont
evaded any answer; and, begging her to be composed, asked whither, or to
whom, he might have the honour of conducting her.
'Almost all my family are here,' cried she, 'but I could not make Dr.
Orkborne shew me the way to them.'
The old gentleman then, repeating 'Tyrold! why if her name is Tyrold,
I'll take care of her myself;' invited her into his apartment.
Dr. Marchmont, thanking him, said: 'This young lady has friends, who in
all probability are now uneasily seeking her; we must lose no time in
joining them.'
'Well, but, well,' cried the old stranger, 'let her come into my room
till the coast is clear, and then take her away in peace. Come, there's
a good girl, come in, do! you're heartily welcome; for there's a person
of your name that's the best friend I ever had in the world. He's gone
from our parts, now; but he's left nothing so good behind. Pray, my
dear, did you ever hear of a gentleman, an old Yorkshire Baronet, of
your name?'
'What! my uncle?'
'Your uncle! why are you niece to Sir Hugh Tyrold?'
Upon her answering yes, he clapped his hands with delight, and saying:
'Why then I'll take care of you myself, if it's at the risk of my life!'
carried, rather than drew her into his room, the Doctor following. Then,
loudly shutting his door in the face of Halder, he called out: 'Enter my
castle who dare! I shall turn a young man myself, at the age of seventy,
to drub the first varlet that would attack the niece of my dear old
friend!'
They soon heard the passage clear, and, without deigning to listen to
the petulant revilings with which young Halder solaced his foolish rage,
'Why, my dear,' he continued, 'why did not you tell me your name was
Tyrold at once? I promise you, you need carry nothing else with you into
our parts, to see all the doors fly open to you. You make much of him, I
hope, where he is? for he left not a dry eye for twenty miles round when
he quitted us. I don't know how many such men you may have in Hampshire;
but Yorkshire's a large county, yet the best man in it would find it
hard to get a seat in Parliament, where Sir Hugh Tyrold would offer
himself to be a candidate. We all say, in Yorkshire, he's so stuffed
full of goodness and kindness, that there's no room left in him for
anything else; that's our way of talking of him in Yorkshire; if you
have a better way in Hampshire, I shall be glad to learn it; never too
late for that; I hate pride.'
No possible disturbance could make Camilla insensible to pleasure in the
praise of her uncle, or depress her spirits from joining in his eulogy;
and her attention, and brightening looks, drew a narrative from the old
gentleman of the baronet's good actions and former kindnesses, so
pleasant both to the speaker and the hearer, that the one forgot he had
never seen her before, and the other, the frightful adventure which
occasioned their meeting now.
Dr. Marchmont at length, looking at his watch, inquired what she meant
to do; to seek her sister and party, she answered; and, returning her
host the warmest acknowledgments for his assistance and goodness, she
was going; but, stopping her: 'How now?' he cried, 'don't you want to
know who I am? Now I have told you I am a friend of your uncle, don't
you suppose he'll ask you my name?'
Camilla, smiling, assured him she wished much to be informed, but knew
not how to trouble him with the question.
'Why my name, my dear, is Westwyn, and when you say that to your uncle,
he won't give you a sour look for your pains; take my word for that
beforehand. I carried over his nephew and heir, a cousin, I suppose, of
yours, to Leipsic with me, about eight years ago, along with a boy of my
own, Hal Westwyn; a very good lad, I assure you, though I never tell him
so to his face, for fear of puffing him up; I hate a boy puffed up; he
commonly comes to no good; that's the only fault of my honoured friend;
he spoils all young people--witness that same cousin of yours, that I
can't say I much like; no more does he me; but tell your good uncle you
have met me; and tell him I love and honour him as I ought to do; I
don't know how to do more, or else I would; tell him this, my dear. And
I have not forgot what he did for me once, when I was hard run; and I
don't intend it; I'm no friend to short memories.'
Camilla said, his name, and her uncle's regard for him, had long been
familiar to her; and told him Clermont Lynmere was of the party to
Southampton, though she knew not how to enter abruptly into an
explanation of his mistake concerning the inheritance. Mr. Westwyn
answered he was in no hurry to see Clermont, who was not at all to his
taste; but would not quit Hampshire without visiting Cleves: and when he
gathered that two more nieces of Sir Hugh were in the house, he desired
to be presented to them.
Upon re-entering the passage, to the great amusement of Dr. Marchmont,
and serious provocation of Camilla, they perceived Dr. Orkborne,
standing precisely where he had first stationed himself; attending no
more to the general hubbub than to her particular entreaty, and as
regardless of the various jolts he had received during the tumult, as of
the obstruction he caused, by his inconvenient position, to the haste of
the passers by. Still steadily reposing against the bannisters, he
worked hard at refining his paragraph, persuaded, since not summoned by
Miss Margland, he had bestowed upon it but a few minutes, though he had
been fixed to that spot near an hour.
Miss Margland received Camilla with a civility which, since her positive
and public affiance to Edgar, she thought necessary to the mistress of
Beech Park; but she looked upon Dr. Marchmont, whom she concluded to
have been her advocate, with a cold ill-will, which, for Mr. Westwyn,
she seasoned still more strongly by a portion of contemptuous
haughtiness; from a ready disposition to believe every stranger, not
formally announced, beneath her notice.
The Doctor soon retired, and found Edgar in his apartment, just returned
from a long stroll. He recounted to him the late transaction, with
reiterated exhortations to circumspection, from added doubts of the
solidity, though with new praise of the attractions of Camilla. 'She
seems a character,' he said, 'difficult to resist, and yet more
difficult to attach. Nothing serious appears to impress her for two
minutes together. Let us see if the thoughtlessness and inadvertence
thus perpetually fertile of danger, result from youthful inexperience,
or have their source in innate levity. Time and reason will rectify the
first; but time, and even reason, will but harden and embolden the
latter. Prudence, therefore, must now interfere; or passion may fly,
when the union it has formed most requires its continuance.'
CHAPTER IV
_An Author's Time-keeper_
Mr. Westwyn, charmed to meet so many near relations of a long-valued
friend, struck by the extraordinary beauty of Indiana, and by the
sensible answers of the child, as he called Eugenia; as well as caught
by the united loveliness of person and of mind which he observed in
Camilla, could not bring himself to retire till the dinner was upon the
table: pleading, in excuse for his stay, his former intimacy with Sir
Hugh. Miss Margland, seeing in him nothing that marked fashion, strove
to distance him by a high demeanour: but though not wanting in
shrewdness, Mr. Westwyn was a perfectly natural man, and only thinking
her manners disagreeable, without suspecting her intention, took but
little notice of her, from the time he saw she could give him no
pleasure: while with the young party, he was so much delighted, that he
seriously regretted he had only one son to offer amongst them.
When the dinner was served, Eugenia grew uneasy that Dr. Orkborne should
be summoned, whose non-appearance she had not ventured to mention, from
the professed hatred of his very sight avowed by Miss Margland. But
Camilla, brought up to exert constantly her courage for the absent, told
the waiter to call the gentleman from the head of the stairs.
'My master himself, ma'am,' he answered, 'as well as me, both told the
gentleman the company he came with were served; but he as good as bid us
both hold our tongues. He seems to have taken a great liking to that
place upon the stairs; though there's nothing I know of particular in
it.'
'But, if you tell him we wait dinner--' cried Eugenia; when Miss
Margland, interrupting her said, 'I'm sure, then, you won't tell him
true: for I beg we may all begin. I think it would be rather more
decorous he should wait for us!'
The waiter, nevertheless, went; but presently returned, somewhat
ruffled; saying, 'The gentleman does not choose to hear me, ma'am. He
says, if he mayn't be let alone one single minute, it will be throwing
away all his morning. I can't say I know what he means; but he speaks
rather froppish. I'd as lieve not go to him again, if you please.'
Miss Margland declared, she wished him no better dinner than his
pot-hooks; but did not doubt he would come just before they had done, as
usual; and he was no more mentioned: though she never in her life eat so
fast; and the table was ordered to be cleared of its covers, with a
speed exactly the reverse of the patience with which the Doctor was
indulged on similar occasions by the baronet.
Miss Margland, when the cloth was removed, proposed a sally in search of
lodgings. Camilla and Eugenia, desirous of a private conference, begged
to remain within; though the latter sought to take care of her absent
preceptor, before she could enjoy the conversation of her sister; and
when Miss Margland and Indiana, in secret exultation at his dinnerless
state, had glided, with silent simpering, past him, flew to beseech his
consent to take some nourishment.
Such, however, was his present absorption in what he was writing, that
the voluntary kindness of his pupil was as unwelcome as the forced
intrusion of the waiter; and he conjured her to grant him a little
respite from such eternal tormenting, with the plaintive impatience of
deprecating some injury.
The sisters, now, equally eager to relate and to listen to their mutual
affairs, shut themselves up in the apartment of Eugenia; who, with the
greatest simplicity, began the discourse, by saying, 'Have you heard, my
dear sister, that Clermont has refused me?'
Camilla was severely shocked. Accustomed herself to the face and form of
Eugenia, which, to her innocent affection, presented always the image of
her virtuous mind and cultivated understanding, she had not presaged
even the possibility of such an event; and, though she had seen with
concern the inequality of their outward appearance, Clermont had seemed
to her, in all else, so inferior to her sister, that she had repined at
his unworthiness, but never doubted the alliance.
She was distressed how to offer any consolation; but soon found none was
required. Eugenia was composed and contented, though pensive, and not
without some feeling of mortification. Yet anger and resentment had
found no place in the transaction. Her equity acknowledged that Clermont
had every right of choice: but while her candour induced her to even
applaud his disinterestedness in relinquishing the Cleves estate, her
capacity pointed out how terrible must be the personal defects, that so
speedily, without one word of conversation, one trial of any sort how
their tastes, tempers, or characters might accord, stimulated him to so
decisive a rejection. This view of her unfortunate appearance cast her,
at first, into a train of melancholy ideas, that would fast have led her
to unhappiness, though wholly unmixed with any regret of Clermont, had
not the natural philosophy of her mind come to her aid; or had her
education been of a more worldly sort.
When Camilla related her own history, her plan of making Edgar again
completely master of his own proceedings met the entire approbation of
Eugenia, who, with a serious smile, said, 'Take warning by me, my dear
sister! and, little as you have reason to be brought into any comparison
with such a one as me, anticipate the disgrace of defection!'
Camilla, much touched, embraced her, sincerely wishing she were half as
faultless as her excellent self.
The return of Miss Margland and Indiana obliged them to quit their
retreat; and they now found Dr. Orkborne in the dining-room. Having
finished his paragraph, he had sought his party of his own accord; but,
meeting with no one, had taken a book from his pocket, with which he
meant to beguile the appetite he felt rising, till the hour of dinner,
which he had not the smallest suspicion was over; for of the progress of
time he had no knowledge but by its palpable passage from the sun to the
moon; his watch was never wound up, and the morning and the evening were
but announced to him by a summons to breakfast and to supper.
The ladies seated themselves at the window. Indiana was enchanted by the
concourse of gay and well-dressed people passing by, and far from
insensible to the visible surprise and pleasure she excited in those who
cast up their eyes at the hotel. Eugenia, to whom a great and populous
town was entirely new, found also, in the diversity as well as novelty
of its objects, much matter for remark and contemplation; Miss Margland
experienced the utmost satisfaction in seeing, at last, some faces and
some things less rustic than had been presented to her in Yorkshire or
at Cleves; and Camilla had every hope that this place, in Edgar's own
expression, would terminate every perplexity, and give local date to her
life's permanent felicity.
In a few minutes, a youth appeared on the opposite pavement, whose air
was new to none of the party, yet not immediately recollected by any. It
was striking, however, in elegance and in melancholy. Eugenia
recollected him first, and starting back, gasped for breath; Indiana the
next moment called out, 'Ah!... it's Mr. Melmond!' and blushing high,
her whole face was bright and dimpled with unexpected delight.
He walked on, without looking up, and Indiana, simply piqued as well as
chagrined, said she was glad he was gone.
But Eugenia looked after him with a gentle sigh, which now first she
thought blameless, and a pleasure, which, though half mournful, she now
suffered herself to encourage. Free from all ties that made her shun
this partiality as culpable, she secretly told herself she might now,
without injury to any one, indulge it for an object [whom,] little as he
was known to her, she internally painted with all the faultless
qualities of ideal excellence.
From these meditations she was roused by Dr. Orkborne's looking rather
wishfully round him, and exclaiming, 'Pray ... don't we dine rather
late?'
The mistake being cleared up, by Miss Margland's assuring him it was
impossible to keep dinner waiting all day, for people who chose to stand
whole hours upon a staircase, he felt rather discomforted: but when
Eugenia privately ordered him a repast in his own chamber, he was amply
consoled, by the unconstrained freedom with which he was empowered to
have more books upon the table than plates; and to make more ink spots
than he eat mouthfuls.
* * * * *
Camilla had the mortification to find, upon her return home, that Edgar
had made his promised visit, not only in her absence, but while Mrs.
Berlinton was still with her aunt.
The lady then communicated to Camilla the secret to which, while yet in
ignorance of its existence, she now found she had been sacrificed. Mrs.
Ecton, two years ago, had given her hand, in the most solemn privacy, to
her butler, who now attended her to Southampton. To avoid disobliging a
sick old relation, from whom she expected a considerable legacy, she had
prevailed with her husband to consent that the marriage should not be
divulged: but certain that whatever now might be her fortune, she had no
power to bequeath it from her new connexion, the terror of leaving
utterly destitute a beautiful young creature, who believed herself well
provided for, had induced her to nearly force her acceptance of an
almost superannuated old man of family; who, merely coveting her beauty,
inquired not into her inclination. The same latent cause had made her
inexorable to the pleadings of young Melmond; who, conceiving his
fortune dependent upon the pleasure of his aunt, his certain income
being trifling, thought it his duty to fly the fair object of his
adoration, when he discovered the deceit of Lionel with regard to the
inheritance of Sir Hugh. This sick old relation was now just dead, and
had left to her sole disposal a considerable estate. The husband
naturally refused to be kept any longer from his just rights; but the
shame she felt of making the discovery of a marriage contracted
clandestinely, after she was sixty years of age, with a man under
thirty, threw her into a nervous fever. And, in this state, unable to
reveal to her nephew an event which now affected him alone, she
prevailed with Mr. Ulst, who was willing to revisit his original home,
Southampton, to accompany her thither in his usual capacity, till she
had summoned her nephew and niece, and acquainted them with the affair.
To herself, Mrs. Berlinton said, the evil of this transaction had been
over, while yet it was unknown; she had heard it, therefore, in silence,
and forborne unavailing reproach. But her brother, to whom the blow was
new, and the consequences were still impending, was struck with extreme
anguish, that while thus every possible hope was extinguished with
regard to his love, he must suddenly apply himself to some business, or
be reduced to the most obscure poverty.
Camilla heard the account with sincere concern for them both, much
heightened for young Melmond, upon finding that, by his express desire,
his sister now relinquished her design of cultivating an acquaintance
with Indiana, whom he had the virtue to determine to avoid, since his
fortune, and even his hopes, were thus irretrievably ruined.
They conversed together to a late hour; and Camilla, before they parted,
made the most earnest apologies for the liberty taken with her house by
Mrs. Mittin: but Mrs. Berlinton, with the utmost sweetness, begged she
might stay till all her business with her was settled; smilingly adding,
business alone, she was sure could bring them together.
Much relieved, she then determined to press Mrs. Mittin to collect and
pay her accounts immediately; and to avoid with her, in the meanwhile,
any further transactions.
CHAPTER V
_An agreeable Hearing_
Early the next morning, Camilla went to the hotel, in the carriage of
Mrs. Berlinton; eluding, though not without difficulty, the company of
Mrs. Mittin. She found the party all in good spirits; Indiana, in
particular, was completely elated; joined to the admiration she
believed awaiting her in this large and fashionable town, she now knew
she might meet there the only person who had ever excited in her
youthful, and nearly vacant breast, any appropriate pleasure,
super-added to the general zest of being adored. She did not, indeed,
think of marrying any one who could not offer her a coach and four; but
so little was she disturbed by thinking at all, that the delight of
being adulated by the man she preferred, carried with it no idea of
danger. Eugenia too, soothed with the delusions of her romantic but
innocent fancy, flattered herself she might now see continually the
object she conceived formed for meriting her ever reverential regard;
and Miss Margland was importantly occupied upon affairs best suited to
her taste and ancient habits, in deliberating how first to bring forth
her fair charge with the most brilliant effect.
Camilla was much embarrassed how to parry an introduction to Mrs.
Berlinton, upon which all the females built as the foundation of their
Southampton prosperity; the young ones, already informed she was the
sister of Melmond, languishing to know her for his sake; and Miss
Margland, formerly acquainted with the noble family of her husband,
being impatient to resume her claims in similar circles; but an awkward
beginning apology was set aside by the entrance of Edgar and Dr.
Marchmont.
Indiana now poured forth innumerable questions upon what she might look
forward to with respect to balls and public places; Eugenia asked nearly
as many concerning the buildings, antiquities, and prospects; and Miss
Margland more than either, relative to the company, their genealogies
and connexions. The two Doctors soon sat aloof, conferring upon less
familiar matters; but Edgar only spoke in reply, and Camilla uttered not
a word.
Soon after, a voice on the stairs called out, 'O never mind shewing me
the way; if I come to a wrong room, I'll go on till I come to a right;'
and the next minute young Lynmere sallied into the apartment.
'I could not get to you last night,' cried he; 'and I can only stay a
moment now. I have a pretty serious business upon my hands; so if you
can give me any breakfast, don't lose time.'
Miss Margland, willing to please the brother of Indiana, readily ordered
for him whatever the inn would afford, of which he failed not heartily
to partake, saying, 'I have met with a good comic sort of adventure here
already. Guess what it is?'
Indiana complied; but his own wish to communicate was so much stronger
than that of anyone to hear, that, before she could pronounce three
words, he cried: 'Well, if you're so excessive curious, I'll tell it
you. I'm engaged in a duel.'
Indiana screamed; Miss Margland echoed her cry; Eugenia, who had looked
down from his entrance, raised her eyes with an air of interest; Camilla
was surprised out of her own concerns; and Edgar surveyed him with an
astonishment not wholly unmixt with contempt; but the two Doctors went
on with their own discourse.
'Nay, nay, Dye, don't be frightened; 'tis not a duel in which I am to
fight myself; I am only to be second. But suppose I were first? what
signifies? these are things we have in hand so often, we don't think of
them.'
'La! brother! you don't say so?' cried Indiana: 'La! how droll!' He then
pretended that he would tell nothing more.
Camilla inquired if he had seen Mr. Westwyn, whom she had met with the
preceding day.
'Not I, faith! but that's apropos enough; for it's his son that has
asked me to be his second.'
'O, poor good old Mr. Westwyn!' cried Camilla, now much interested in
this history; 'and can you not save him such a shock? can you not be
mediator instead of second? he seems so fond of his son....'
'O, as to him, it's no matter; he's such a harsh old hunks, I shall be
glad to have him worked a little; I've often wanted to pull him by the
nose, myself, he takes such liberties with me. But did you ever hear of
such a fool as his son? he deserves to be badgered as bad as his father;
he's going to fight with as fine an honest fellow as ever I met with,
for nothing at all! absolutely nothing!'
'Dear! how droll!' said Indiana.
'But why can you not interfere?' cried Camilla: 'poor Mr. Westwyn will
be made so unhappy if any evil befalls his son!'
'O, faith, as to him, he may take it as he will; I shan't trouble my
head about him; he has made free enough with me, I can assure you; it's
only to have him out of the way, that the business is put off till noon;
it was to have been in the morning, but the old tyrant took it into his
pate to make poor Henry, who is one of your good ones, and does nothing
to vex him on purpose, ride out with him; he has promised, however, to
get off by twelve o'clock, when four of us are to be at a certain spot
that I shan't name.'
Camilla again began to plead the merits of the father; but Indiana more
urgently demanded the reason of the combat. 'I dare say, brother, they
fight about being in love with somebody? don't they, brother? now do
tell me?'
'Not a whit! it's for a girl he don't care a straw for, and never saw
but once in his life, and don't care a farthing if he never sees again.'
'Dear, how droll, brother! I thought people always fought about being in
love with somebody they wanted to marry; and never but when she was
excessive pretty.'
'O, faith, marriage seldom deserves a fighting match; but as to being
pretty, that's all Harry has in his excuse, so he pretends she's as
divine as an angel.'
'Dear! well, and don't you know anything more than that about it?'
'No, nor he neither; he only saw her at a bathing house, where a fine
jolly young buck was paying her a few compliments, that she affected not
to like; and presently, in a silly dispute whether she was a girl of
character, they had a violent quarrel, and Harry was such a fool as to
end it with a challenge.'
At the words _a bathing house_, the blood forsook the cheeks of Camilla
with sudden personal alarm; but it mounted high into them again, upon
hearing the nature of the dispute; though yet again it sunk, and left
them wholly pallid, at the brief and final conviction she was the sole
cause of this duel, and upon so disgraceful a dispute.
The emotions of Edgar, though less fearful, were not less violent nor
painful. That Camilla should be the subject of any challenge was
shocking, but of such a one he thought a dishonour; yet to prevent, and
with the least publicity, its effect, was the immediate occupation of
his mind.
A short pause ensued, broken presently by Clermont, who, looking at his
watch, suddenly jumped up, and calling out, 'Faith, I shall be too
late!' was capering out of the room; but the shame of Camilla in the
disgrace, was overpowered by her terror of its consequences, and
starting up, and clasping her hands, 'O cousin! O Clermont!' she cried,
'for Heaven's sake stop this affair!'
Clermont, satisfied that a sufficient alarm was raised to impede the
transaction, without any concession on his part, declared himself bound
in honour to attend the appointment, and, in extreme seeming haste and
earnestness, walked off; stopping, however, when he came to the door,
not to listen to the supplications of his cousin, but to toss off a
fresh cup of chocolate, which a waiter was just carrying to the next
room.
Camilla now, her face varying in colour twenty times in a minute, and
her whole frame shaking, while her eyes were cast, conscious and timid,
on the floor, approached Edgar, and saying, 'This young man's father is
my dear uncle's friend!...' burst into tears.
Edgar, wholly dissolved, took her hand, pressed it to his lips, besought
her, in a low voice, to dismiss her apprehensions, in the confidence of
his most ardent exertions, and again kissing her hand, with the words,
'Too ... O, far too dear Camilla!' hastened after Lynmere.
Affected in a thousand ways, she dropt, weeping, upon a chair. Should
the duel take place, and any fatal consequences follow, she felt she
should never be happy again; and even, should it be prevented, its very
suggestion, from so horrible a doubt of her character, seemed a stain
from which it could never recover. The inconsiderate facility with which
she had wandered about with a person so little known to her, so
underbred, and so forward, appeared now to herself inexcusable; and she
determined, if but spared this dreadful punishment, to pass the whole of
her future life in unremitting caution.
Eugenia, with the kindest sympathy, and Indiana and Miss Margland, with
extreme curiosity, sought to discover the reason of her emotion; but
while begging them to dispense with an explanation, old Mr. Westwyn was
announced and appeared.
The horrors of a culprit, the most cruel as well as criminal, seemed
instantly the portion of the self-condemned Camilla; and, as he advanced
with cheerful kindness, to inquire after her health, his ignorance that
all his happiness, through her means, was that moment at stake, pierced
her with a suffering so exquisite, that she uttered a deep groan, and
sunk back upon her chair.
An instant's recollection brought her more of fortitude, though not of
comfort; and springing up and addressing, though not looking at Mr.
Westwyn, who was staring at her with astonishment and concern: 'Where,
sir,' she cried, 'is your son? If you have the least knowledge which way
he is gone ... which way he may be traced ... pursue and force him back
this moment!... Immediately!...'
'My son!' repeated the good old gentleman, wanting no other word to
participate in any alarm; 'what, Hal Westwyn?--'
'Follow him ... seek him ... send for him ... and do not, a single
instant, lose sight of him all day!'
'My dear young lady, what do you mean? I'll send for him, to be sure, if
you desire it; but what makes you so good as to think about my son? did
you ever see my son? do you know my son? do you know Hal Westwyn?'
'Don't ask now, dear sir! secure him first, and make what inquiries you
please afterwards.'
Mr. Westwyn, in evident consternation, walked out, Camilla herself
opening the door; but turning back in the passage, strongly said: 'If
the boy has been guilty of any misbehaviour, I won't support him; I
don't like misbehaviour; it's a bad thing; I can't take to it.'
'O no! no! quite the contrary!' exclaimed the agitated Camilla, 'he is
good, kind, generous! I owe him the greatest obligation! and I desire
nothing upon earth so much, at this moment, as to see him, and to thank
him!'
The old gentleman's eyes now filled with tears, and coming back, and
most affectionately shaking hands with her, 'I was afraid he had
misbehaved,' he cried; 'but he was always a good lad; and if he has done
any thing for the niece of my dear Sir Hugh Tyrold, I shall hug him to
my heart!' and then, in great, but pleased perturbation, he hurried
away, saying to himself, as he went: 'I'll take him to her, to be sure;
I desire nothing better! God bless her! If she can speak so well of my
poor Hal, she must be the best girl living! and she shall have him ...
yes, she shall have him, if she's a mind to him; and I don't care if she
i'n't worth a groat; she's niece to my old friend; that's better.'
Camilla speeding, but not hearing him, returned to her seat; yet could
not answer one question, from the horrors of her fears, and her shame of
the detail of the business.
When the breakfast was over Miss Margland desired everyone would get
ready to go to the lodgings; and, with Indiana, repaired herself to
visit them, and give general orders. Dr. Marchmont had glided out of
the room, in anxiety for Edgar; to the great dissatisfaction, and almost
contempt of Dr. Orkborne, with whom he was just discussing some
controverted points upon the shield of Achilles; which, that he could
quit for the light concerns of a young man, added again to his surmises
that, though he had run creditably the usual scholastic race, his
reputation was more the effect of general ability and address, than of
such sound and consummate learning as he himself possessed. Ruminating
upon the ignorant injustice of mankind, in suffering such quacks in
literature and philology to carry the palm of fame, he went to his
chamber, to collect, from his bolster and bedside, the hoard of books
and papers, from which, the preceding night, he had disencumbered his
coat, waistcoat, and great coat pockets, inside and out, to review
before he could sleep; and which now were again to encircle him, to
facilitate their change of abode.
But Eugenia would not quit her afflicted sister, who soon, in her gentle
breast, deposited the whole of her grief, her apprehensions, and her
plans; charging her instantly to retire, if Edgar should return, that
whatever might be the event he should unfold, she might release him
immediately from an engagement that his last words seemed to avow did
not make him happy, and that probably he now repented. The design was so
consonant to the native heroism of Eugenia, that she consented, with
applause, to aid its execution.
About half an hour, which seemed to be prolonged to twenty times the
duration of the whole day, passed in terrible expectation; Edgar then
appeared, and Eugenia, suspending her earnest curiosity, to comply with
the acute feelings of her sister, retreated.
Camilla could scarce breathe; she stood up, her eyes and mouth open, her
face pale, her hands uplifted, waiting, but not daring to demand
intelligence.
Edgar, entering into her distress with a tenderness that drove from him
his own, eagerly satisfied her: 'All,' he cried, 'is safe; the affair
has been compromised; no duel has taken place; and the parties have
mutually pledged themselves to forget the dispute.'
Tears again, but no longer bitter, flowed copiously down her cheeks,
while her raised eyes and clasped hands expressed the fervency of her
thankfulness.
Edgar, extremely touched, took her hand; he wished to seize a moment so
nearly awful, to enforce upon her mind every serious subject with which
he most desired it to be impressed; but sorrow was ever sacred to him;
and desiring only, at this period, to console her: 'This adventure,' he
cried, 'has now terminated so well, you must not suffer it to wound you.
Dismiss it, sweet Camilla, from your memory!... at least till you are
more composed.'
'No, sir!' cried Camilla, to whom his softness, by restoring her hope of
an ultimately happy conclusion, restored strength; 'it ought never to be
dismissed from my memory; and what I am now going to say will fix it
there indelibly.'
Edgar was surprised, but pleased; his most anxious wishes seemed on the
point of being fulfilled; he expected a voluntary explanation of every
perplexity, a clearance of all mystery.
'I am sensible that I have appeared to you,' she resumed, 'in many
points reprehensible; in some, perhaps, inexcusable....'
'Inexcusable? O no! never! never!'
'The letters of Sir Sedley Clarendel I know you think I ought not to
have received....'
Edgar, biting his nails, looked down.
'And, indeed, I acknowledge myself, in that affair, a most egregious
dupe!...'
She blushed; but her blush was colourless to that of Edgar. Resentment
against Sir Sedley beat high in every vein; while disappointment to his
delicacy, in the idea of Camilla duped by any man, seemed, in one blow,
to detach him from her person, by a sudden dissolution of all charm to
his mind in the connection.
Camilla saw, too late, she had been too hasty in a confession which some
apologising account should have preceded; but what her courage had
begun, pride now aided her to support, and she continued.
'For what belongs to that correspondence, and even for its being unknown
to my friends, I may offer, perhaps, hereafter, something in
exculpation; ... hereafter, I say, building upon your long family
regard; for though we part ... it will be, I trust, in amity.'
'Part!' repeated Edgar, recovering from his displeasure by amazement.
'Yes, part,' said she, with assumed firmness; 'it would be vain to
palliate what I cannot disguise from myself ... I am lessened in your
esteem.' She could not go on; imperious shame took possession of her
voice, crimsoned her very forehead, blushed even in her eyes, demolished
her strained energy, and enfeebled her genuine spirit.
But the conscious taciturnity of Edgar recalled her exertions; struck
and afflicted by the truth she had pronounced, he could not controvert
it; he was mute; but his look spoke keen disturbance and bitter regret.
'Not so low, however, am I yet, I trust, fallen in your opinion, that
you can wonder at the step I now take. I am aware of many errours; I
know, too, that appearances have often cruelly misrepresented me; my
errours you might have the candour to forget, and false appearances I
could easily clear in my own favour--but where, and what is the talisman
which can erase from my own remembrance that you have thought me
unworthy?'
Edgar started; but she would not give him time to speak; what she had
last uttered was too painful to her to dwell upon, or hear answered, and
rapidly, and in an elevated manner, she went on.
'I here, therefore, solemnly release you from all tie, all engagement
whatever with Camilla Tyrold! I shall immediately acquaint my friends
that henceforth ... we Both are Free!'
She was then retiring. Edgar, confounded by a stroke so utterly and
every way unexpected, neither answering nor interposing, till he saw her
hand upon the lock of the door. In a voice then, that spoke him cut to
the soul, though without attempting to stop her, 'This then,' he cried,
'Camilla, is your final adieu.'
She turned round, and with a face glowing, and eyes glistening, held out
to him her hand: 'I knew not if you would accept,' she said, 'a kinder
word, or I should have assured you of my unaltered regard ... and have
claimed the continuance of your friendship, and even ... if your
patience is not utterly exhausted, of your watchful counsel....
Farewell! remember me without severity! my own esteem must be permanent
as my existence!'
The door, here, was opened by Miss Margland and Indiana, and Camilla
hastily snatched away the hand which Edgar, grasping with the fondness
of renovated passion, secretly meant to part with no more, till a final
reconciliation once again made it his own; but compelled to yield to
circumstance, he suffered it to be withdrawn; and while she darted into
the chamber of Eugenia, to hide her deep emotion from Indiana, who was
tittering, and Miss Margland, who was sneering, at the situation in
which she was surprised, he abruptly took leave himself, too much
impressed by this critical scene, to labour for uninteresting discourse.
CHAPTER VI
_Ideas upon Marriage_
While, in the bosom of her faithful sister, Camilla reposed her feelings
and her fears, alternately rejoicing and trembling in the temerity of
the resolution she had exerted; Edgar sought his not less faithful, nor
honourable, but far more worldly friend, Dr. Marchmont.
He narrated, with extreme emotion, the scene he had just had with
Camilla; asserting her possession of every species of excellence from
the nobleness of her rejection, and abhorring himself for having given
her a moment's doubt of his fullest esteem. Not a solicitude, he
declared, now remained with him, but how to appease her displeasure,
satisfy her dignity, and recover her favour.
'Softly, softly!' said the Doctor; 'measure your steps more temperately,
ere you run with such velocity. If this refusal is the result of an
offended sensibility, you cannot exert yourself too warmly in its
consolation; even if it is from pride, it has a just claim to your
concessions, since she thinks you have injured it; yet pause before you
act, may it not be merely from a confidence of power that loves to
tyrannize over its slaves, by playing with their chains? or a lurking
spirit of coquetry, that desires to regain the liberty of trifling with
some new Sir Sedley Clarendel? or, perhaps, with Sir Sedley himself?'
'Dr. Marchmont! how wretchedly ill you think of women!'
'I think of them as they are! I think of them as I have found them. They
are artful, though feeble; they are shallow, yet subtle.'
'You have been unfortunate in your connexions?'
'Yet who had better prospects? with energies as warm, with hopes as
alive as your own, twice have I conducted to the altar two beings I
thought framed for my peculiar felicity; but my peace, my happiness, and
my honour, have been torn up by the root, exactly where I thought I had
planted them for my whole temporal existence. This heart, which to you
appears hard and suspicious, has been the dupe of its susceptibilities;
first, in a creature of its own choice, next, where it believed itself
chosen. That first, Mandlebert, had you seen her, you would have
thought, as I thought her myself ... an angel! She was another Camilla.'
'Another Camilla!'
'Grace, sweetness, and beauty vied in her for pre-eminence. Yes, another
Camilla! though I see your incredulity; I see you think my comparison
almost profane; and that grace, sweetness, and beauty, waited the birth
of Camilla to be made known to the world. Such, however, she was, and I
saw and loved at once. I knew her character fair, I precipitately made
my addresses, and concluded myself beloved in return ... because I was
accepted!'
Edgar shrunk back, and cast down his eyes.
'Nor was it till the moment ... heart-breaking yet to my
recollection!... of her sudden death, that I knew the lifeless,
soulless, inanimate frame was all she had bestowed upon me. In the
private drawer of her bureau, I then found a pocketbook. In the first
leaf, I saw a gentleman's name; ... I turned over, and saw it again; I
looked further, and still it met my view; I opened by chance, ... but
nothing else appeared: ... there it was still, traced in every hand,
charactered in every form, shape, and manner, the wayward, wistful eye
could delight to fashion, for varying, yet beholding it without end:
while, over the intermediate spaces, verses, quotations, short but
affecting sentences, were every where scattered, bewailing the misery of
disappointed hope, and unrequited love; of a heartless hand devoted at
the altar; of vows enchaining liberty, not sanctifying affection! I
then ... alas, too late! dived deeper, with, then, useless
investigation, ... and discovered an early passion, never erased from
her mind; ... discovered ... that I had never made her happy! that she
was merely enduring, suffering me ... while my whole confiding soul was
undividedly hers!...'
Edgar shuddered at this picture; 'But why, then,' he cried, 'since she
seemed amiable as well as fair, why did she accept you?'
'Ask half the married women in the nation how they became wives: they
will tell you their friends urged them; ... that they had no other
establishment in view; ... that nothing is so uncertain as the
repetition of matrimonial powers in women; ... and that those who
cannot solicit what they wish, must accommodate themselves to what
offers. This first adventure, however, is now no longer useful to you,
though upon its hard remembrance was founded my former caution: but I am
even myself satisfied, at present, that the earliest partiality of
Camilla has been yours; what now you have to weigh, is the strength or
inadequacy of her character, for guiding that partiality to your mutual
happiness. My second melancholy history will best illustrate this
difficulty. You may easily believe, the last of my intentions was any
further essay in a lottery I had found so inauspicious; but, while cold
even to apathy, it was my inevitable chance to fall in the way of a
pleasing and innocent young creature, who gave me, unsought and
unwished-for, her heart. The boon, nevertheless, soon caught my own: for
what is so alluring as the voluntary affection of a virtuous woman?'
'Well,' cried Edgar, 'and what now could disturb your tranquillity?'
'The insufficiency of that heart to its own decision. I soon found her
apparent predilection was simply the result of the casualty which
brought me almost exclusively into her society, but unmarked by any
consonance of taste, feeling, or understanding. Her inexperience had
made her believe, since she preferred me to the few who surrounded her,
I was the man of her choice: with equal facility I concurred in the same
mistake; ... for what is so credulous as self-love? But such a regard,
the child of accident, not selection, was unequal, upon the discovery of
the dissimilarity of our dispositions, to the smallest sacrifice. My
melancholy returned with the view of our mutual delusion; lassitude of
pleasing was the precursor of discontent. Dissipation then, in the form
of amusement, presented itself to her aid: retirement and books came to
mine. My resource was safe, though solitary; hers was gay, but perilous.
Dissipation, with its usual Proteus powers, from amusement changed its
form to temptation, allured her into dangers, impeached her honour, and
blighted her with disgrace. I just discerned the precipice whence she
was falling, in time to avert the dreadful necessity of casting her off
for ever: ... but what was our life thence forward? Cares
unparticipated, griefs uncommunicated, stifled resentments, and
unremitting weariness! She is now no more; and I am a lonely individual
for the rest of my pilgrimage.
'Take warning, my dear young friend, by my experience. The entire
possession of the heart of the woman you marry is not more essential to
your first happiness, than the complete knowledge of her disposition is
to your ultimate peace.'
Edgar thanked him, in deep concern to have awakened emotions which the
absorption of study, and influence of literature, held generally
dormant. The lesson, however, which they inculcated, he engaged to keep
always present to his consideration; though, but for the strange affair
of Sir Sedley Clarendel, he should feel confident that, in Camilla,
there was not more of exterior attraction, than of solid excellence:
and, with regard to their concordance of taste and humour, he had never
seen her so gay, nor so lovely, as in scenes of active benevolence, or
domestic life. She had promised to clear, hereafter, the transaction
with Sir Sedley; but he could not hold back for that explanation: hurt,
already, by his apparent scruples, she had openly named them as the
motives of her rejection: could he, then, shew her he yet demurred,
without forfeiting all hope of a future accommodation?
'Delicacy,' said Dr. Marchmont, 'though the quality the most amiable we
can practise in the service of others, must not take place of common
sense, and sound judgment, for ourselves. Her dismission does not
discard you from her society; on the contrary, it invites your
friendship....'
'Ah, Doctor! what innocence, what sweetness does that very circumstance
display!'
'Learn, however, their concomitants, ere you yield to their charms:
learn if their source is from a present, yet accidental preference, or
from the nobler spring of elevated sentiment. The meeting you surprised
with Sir Sedley, the presumption you acknowledge of his letters, and the
confession made by herself that she had submitted to be duped by him.'
'O, Dr. Marchmont! what harrowing drawbacks to felicity! And how much
must we rather pity than wonder at the errors of common young women,
when a creature such as this is so easy to be misled!'
'You must not imagine I mean a censure upon the excellent Mr. Tyrold,
when I say she is left too much to herself: the purity of his
principles, and the virtue of his character, must exempt him from blame;
but his life has been both too private and too tranquil, to be aware of
the dangers run by Female Youth, when straying from the mother's
careful wing. All that belongs to religion, and to principle, he feels,
and he has taught; but the impediments they have to encounter in a
commerce with mankind, he could not point out, for he does not know. Yet
there is nothing more certain, than that seventeen weeks is not less
able to go alone in a nursery, than seventeen years in the world.'
This suggestion but added to the bias of Edgar to take her, if possible,
under his own immediate guidance.
'Know, first,' cried the Doctor, 'if to your guidance she will give way;
know if the affair with Sir Sedley has exculpations which render it
single and adventitious, or if there hang upon it a lightness of
character that may invest caprice, chance, or fickleness, with powers of
involving such another entanglement.'
CHAPTER VII
_How to treat a Defamer_
As the lodgings taken by Miss Margland could not be ready till the
afternoon, Camilla remained with her sister; a sojourn which, while it
consoled her with the society, and gratified her by the approbation of
Eugenia, had yet another allurement; it detained her under the same roof
with Edgar; and his manner of listening to her rejection, and his
undisguised suffering before they were parted, led her to expect he
might yet demand a conference before she quitted the hotel.
In about an hour, as unpleasantly as unceremoniously, they were broken
in upon by Mrs. Mittin.
'How monstrous lucky, my dear,' cried she, to Camilla, 'that I should
find you, and your little sister, for I suppose this is she, together! I
went into your dining-room to ask for you, and there I met those other
two ladies; and I've made acquaintance with 'em, I assure you, already;
for I told them I was on a visit at the Honourable Mrs. Berlinton's. So
I've had the opportunity to recommend some shops to 'em, and I've been
to tell some of the good folks to send them some of their nicest goods
for 'em to look at; for, really, since I've been bustling a little about
here, I've found some of the good people so vastly obliging, I can't but
take a pleasure in serving 'em, and getting 'em a few customers,
especially as I know a little civility of that sort makes one friends
surprisingly. Often and often have I got things under prime cost myself,
only by helping a person on in his trade. So one can't say good nature's
always thrown away. However, I come now on purpose to put a note into
your own hands, from Mrs. Berlinton; for all the servants were out of
the way, except one, and he wanted to be about something else, so I
offered to bring it, and she was very much pleased; so I fancy it's
about some secret, for she never offered to shew it me; but as to the
poor man I saved from the walk, I've won his heart downright; I dare say
he'll go of any odd errand for me, now, without vails. That's the best
of good nature, it always comes home to one.'
The note from Mrs. Berlinton contained a tender supplication for the
return of Camilla, and a pressing and flattering invitation that her
sister should join their little party, as the motives of honour and
discretion which made her, at the request and for the sake of her
brother, sacrifice her eagerness to be presented to Miss Lynmere,
operated not to impede her acquaintance with Miss Eugenia.
This proposition had exquisite charms for Eugenia. To become acquainted
with the sister of him to whom, henceforward, she meant to devote her
secret thoughts, enchanted her imagination. Camilla, therefore,
negotiated the visit with Miss Margland, who, though little pleased by
this separate invitation, knew not how to refuse her concurrence; but
Indiana, indignant that the sister of Melmond should not, first, have
waited upon her, and solicited her friendship, privately resolved, in
pique of this disrespect, to punish the brother with every rigour she
could invent.
Camilla, upon her return, found Mrs. Mittin already deeply engaged in
proposing an alteration in the dress of Eugenia, which she was aiding
Molly Mill to accomplish; and so much she found to say and to do, to
propose and to object to, to contrive and to alter, that, from the
simplicity of the mistress, and the ignorance of the maid, the one was
soon led to conclude she should have appeared improperly before Mrs.
Berlinton, without such useful advice; and the other to believe she must
shortly have lost her place, now her young lady was come forth into the
world, if she had not thus miraculously met with so good a friend.
During these preparations, Camilla was summoned back to the dining-room
to receive Mr. Westwyn.
She did not hear this call with serenity. The danger which, however
unwittingly, she had caused his son, and the shocking circumstances
which were its foundation, tingled her cheeks, and confounded her wish
of making acknowledgments, with an horror that such an obligation could
be possible.
The door of the dining-room was open, and as soon as her steps were
heard, Mr. Westwyn came smiling forth to receive her. She hung back
involuntarily; but, pacing up to her, and taking her hand, 'Well, my
good young lady,' he cried, 'I have brought you my son; but he's no
boaster, that I can assure you, for though I told him how you wanted him
to come to you, and was so good as to say you were so much obliged to
him, I can't make him own he has ever seen you in his life; which I tell
him is carrying his modesty over far; I don't like affectation ... I
have no taste for it.'
Camilla, discovering by this speech, as well as by his pleased and
tranquil manner, that he had escaped hearing of the intended duel, and
that his son was still ignorant whose cause he had espoused, ardently
wished to avert farther shame by concealing herself; and, step by step,
kept retreating back towards the room of Eugenia; though she could not
disengage her hand from the old gentleman, who, trying to draw her on,
said: 'Come, my dear! don't go away. Though my son won't confess what he
has done for you, he can't make me forget that you were such a dear soul
as to tell me yourself, of his good behaviour, and of your having such a
kind opinion of him. And I have been telling him, and I can assure you
I'll keep my word, that if he has done a service to the niece of my dear
old friend, Sir Hugh Tyrold, it shall value him fifty pound a-year more
to his income, if I straighten myself never so much. For a lad, that
knows how to behave in that manner, will never spend his money so as to
make his old father ashamed of him. And that's a good thing for a man to
know.'
'Indeed, sir, this is some mistake,' said the young man himself, now
advancing into the passage, while Camilla was stammering out an excuse
from entering; 'it's some great mistake; I have not the honour to
know....'
He was going to add Miss Tyrold, but he saw her at the same moment, and
instantly recollecting her face, stopt, blushed, and looked amazed.
The retreating effort of Camilla, her shame and her pride, all subsided
by his view, and gave place to the more generous feelings of gratitude
for his intuitive good opinion, and emotion for the risk he had run in
her defence: and with an expression of captivating sweetness in her eyes
and manner, 'That you did not know me,' she cried, 'makes the
peculiarity of your goodness, which, indeed, I am more sensible to than
I can express.'
'Why, there! there, now! there!' cried Mr. Westwyn, while his son,
enchanted to find whose character he had sustained, bowed almost to the
ground with respectful gratitude for such thanks; 'only but listen! she
says the very same things to your face, that she said behind your back!
though I am afraid, it's only to please an old father; for if not, I
can't for my life find out any reason why you should deny it. Come, Hal,
speak out, Hal!'
Equally at a loss how either to avow or evade what had passed in the
presence of Camilla, young Westwyn began a stammering and awkward
apology; but Camilla, feeling doubly his forbearance, said: 'Silence may
in you be delicate ... but in me it would be graceless.' Then, turning
from him to old Mr. Westwyn, 'you may be proud, sir,' she cried, 'of
your son! It was the honour of an utter stranger he was protecting, as
helpless as she was unknown at the time she excited his interest; nor
had he even in view this poor mede he now receives of her thanks!'
'My dearest Hal!' cried Mr. Westwyn, wringing him by the hand; 'if you
have but one small grain of regard for me, don't persist in denying
this! I'd give the last hundred pounds I had in the world to be sure it
was true!'
'That to hear the name of this lady,' said the young man, 'should not be
necessary to inspire me with respect for her, who can wonder? that any
opportunity could arise in which she should want defence, is all that
can give any surprise.'
'You own it, then, my dear Hal? you own you've done her a kindness? why
then, my dear Hal, you've done one to me! and I can't help giving you a
hug for it, let who will think me an old fool.'
He then fervently embraced his son, who confused, though gratified,
strove vainly to make disclaiming speeches. 'No, no, my dear Hal,' he
cried, 'you sha'n't let yourself down with me again, I promise you,
though you've two or three times tried to make me think nothing of you;
but this young lady here, dear soul, speaks another language; she says
I may be proud of my son! and I dare say she knows why, for she's a
charming girl, as ever I saw; so I will be proud of my son! Poor dear
Hal! thou hast got a good friend, I can tell thee, in that young lady!
and she's niece to the best man I ever knew; and I value her good
opinion more than anybody's.'
'You are much too good,' cried Camilla, in an accent of tender pleasure,
the result of grateful joy, that she had not been the means of
destroying the paternal happiness of so fond a father, joined to the
dreadful certainty how narrowly she had escaped that misery; 'you are
much too good, and I blush even to thank you, when I think--'
What she meant to add was in a moment forgotten, and that she blushed
ceased to be metaphorical, when now, as they all three entered the
dining-room together, the first object that met her eyes was Edgar.
Their eyes met not again; delighted and conscious, she turned hers
hastily away. He comes, thought she, to [claim] me! he will not submit
to the separation; he comes to re-assure me of his esteem, and to
receive once more my faithful heart!
Edgar had seen, by chance, the Westwyns pass to the room of the Cleves
party, and felt the most ardent desire to know if they would meet with
Camilla, and what would be her reception of her young champion, whose
sword, with extreme trouble, he had himself that morning sheathed, and
whose gallantry he attributed to a vehement, however, sudden passion.
Dr. Marchmont acknowledged the epoch to be highly interesting for
observation, and, presuming upon their old right of intimacy with all
the party, they abruptly made a second visit.
Miss Margland and Indiana, who were examining some goods sent by Mrs.
Mittin, had received them all four without much mark of civility; and
Mr. Westwyn immediately desired Camilla to be sent for, and kept upon
the watch, till her step made him hasten out to meet her.
Edgar could not hear unmoved the dialogue which ensued; he imagined an
amiable rival was suddenly springing up in young Westwyn, at the very
moment of his own dismission, which he now even thought possible this
incipient conquest had urged; and when Camilla, walking between the
father and the son, with looks of softest sensibility, came into the
room, he thought he had never seen her so lovely, and that her most
bewitching smiles were purposely lavished for their captivation.
With this idea, he found it impossible to speak to her; their situation,
indeed, was too critical for any common address, and when he saw that
she turned from him, he attempted to converse with the other ladies upon
their purchases; and Camilla, left to her two new beaux, had the
unavoidable appearance of being engrossed by them, though the sight of
Edgar instantly robbed them of all her real attention.
Soon after, the door was again opened, and Mr. Girt, the young perfumer,
came, smirking and scraping, into the room, with a box of various toys,
essences, and cosmetics, recommended by Mrs. Mittin.
Ignorant of the mischief he had done her, and not even recollecting to
have seen him, Camilla made on to look at his goods; but Edgar, to whom
his audacious assertions were immediately brought back by his sight,
would have made him feel the effects of his resentment, had not his
passion for Camilla been of so solid, as well as warm a texture, as to
induce him to prefer guarding her delicacy, to any possible display he
could make of his feelings to others, or even to herself.
Mr. Girt, in the midst of his exhibition of memorandum books, smelling
bottles, tooth-pick cases, and pocket mirrours; with washes to
immortalize the skin, powders becoming to all countenances, and pomatums
to give natural tresses to old age, suddenly recollected Camilla. The
gross mistake he had made he had already discovered, by having dodged
her to the house of Mrs. Berlinton; but all alarm at it hid ceased, by
finding, through a visit made to his shop by Mrs. Mittin, that she was
uninformed he had propagated it. Not gifted with the discernment to see
in the air and manner of Camilla her entire, though unassuming
superiority to her accidental associate, he concluded them both to be
relations of some of the upper domestics; and with a look and tone
descending from the most profound adulation, with which he was
presenting his various articles to Miss Margland and Indiana, into a
familiarity the most facetious, 'O dear, ma'am,' he cried, 'I did not
see you at first; I hope t'other lady's well that's been so kind as to
recommend me? Indeed I saw her just now.'
Young Westwyn, to whom, as to Edgar, the bold defamation of Girt
occurred with his presence, but whom none of the nameless delicacies of
the peculiar situation, and peculiar character of Edgar, restrained into
silence, felt such a disgust at the presumption of effrontery that gave
him courage for this facetious address, to a young lady whose innocence
of his ill usage made him think its injury double, that, unable to
repress his indignation, he abruptly whispered in his ear, 'Walk out of
the room, sir!'
The amazed perfumer, at this haughty and unexpected order, stared, and
cried aloud, 'No offence, I hope, sir?'
Mr. Westwyn asked what was the matter? while Camilla, crimsoned by the
familiar assurance with which she had been addressed, retired to a
window.
'Nothing of any moment, sir,' answered Henry; and again, in a low but
still more positive voice, he repeated his command to Girt.
'Sir, I'm not used to be used in this manner!' answered he, hardily, and
hoping, by raising his tone, for the favourable intervention of the
company.
Indiana, now, was preparing to scream, and Miss Margland was looking
round to see whom she should reprehend; but young Westwyn, coolly
opening the door, with a strong arm, and an able jerk, twisted the
perfumer into the passage, saying, 'You may send somebody for your
goods.'
Girt, who equally strong, but not equally adroit as Henry, strove in
vain to resist, vowed vengeance for this assault. Henry, without seeming
to hear him, occupied himself with looking at what he had left. Camilla
felt her eyes suffuse with tears; and Edgar, for the first time in his
life, found himself visited by the baleful passion of envy.
Miss Margland could not comprehend what this meant; Indiana comprehended
but too much in finding there was some disturbance of which she was not
the object; but Mr. Westwyn, losing his look of delight, said, with
something of severity, 'Ha! what did you turn that man out of the room
for?'
'He is perfectly aware of my reason, sir,' said Henry; and then added it
was a long story, which he begged to relate another time.
The blank face of Mr. Westwyn shewed displeasure and mortification. He
lifted the head of his cane to his mouth, and after biting it for some
time, with a frowning countenance, muttered, 'I don't like to see a man
turned out of a room. If he's done any harm, tell him so; and if it's
worse than harm, souse him in a horsepond; I've no objection: But I
don't like to see a man turned out of a room; it's very unmannerly; and
I did not think Hal would do such a thing.' Then suddenly, and with a
succinct bow, bidding them all good bye, he took a hasty leave; still,
however, muttering, all the way along the passage, and down the stairs,
loud enough to be heard: 'Kicking and jerking a man about does not prove
him to be in the wrong. I thought Hal had been more of a gentleman. If I
don't find the man turns out to be a rascal, Hal shall beg his pardon;
for I don't like to see a man turned out of a room.'
Henry, whose spirit was as irritable as it was generous, felt acutely
this public censure, which, though satisfied he did not deserve, every
species of propriety prohibited his explaining away. With a forced
smile, therefore, and a silent bow, he followed his father.
Miss Margland and Indiana now burst forth with a torrent of wonders,
conjectures, and questions; but the full heart of Camilla denied her
speech, and the carriage of Mrs. Berlinton being already at the door,
she called upon Eugenia, and followed, perforce, by Mrs. Mittin, left
the hotel.
Edgar and Dr. Marchmont gave neither surprise nor concern by retiring
instantly to their own apartment.
'Dr. Marchmont,' said the former, in a tone of assumed moderation, 'I
have lost Camilla! I see it plainly. This young man steps forward so
gallantly, so ingenuously, nay so amiably, that the contrast ... chill,
severe, and repulsive ... must render me ... in this detestable
state ... insupportable to all her feelings. Dr. Marchmont! I have not
a doubt of the event!'
'The juncture is, indeed, perilous, and the trial of extremest hazard;
but it is such as draws all uncertainty to a crisis, and, therefore, is
not much to be lamented. You may safely, I think, rest upon it your
destiny. To a general female heart a duel is the most dangerous of all
assaults, and the most fascinating of all charms; and a duellist, though
precisely what a woman most should dread, as most exposing her to public
notice, is the person of all others she can, commonly, least resist. By
this test, then, prove your Camilla. Her champion seems evidently her
admirer, and his father her adorer. Her late engagement with you may
possibly not reach them; or reaching but with its dissolution, serve
only to render them more eager.'
'Do you suppose him,' cried Edgar, after a pause of strong disturbance;
'do you suppose him rich?'
'Certainly not. That the addition of fifty pounds a-year to his income
should be any object, proves his fortune to be very moderate.'
'Clear her, then, at least,' said he, with a solemnity almost
reproachful; 'clear her, at least, of every mercenary charge! If I lose
her ...' he gasped for breath ... 'she will not, you find, be bought
from me! and pique, anger, injustice, nay inconstancy, all are less
debasing than the sordid corruption of which you suspected her.'
'This does not, necessarily, prove her disinterested; she is too young,
yet, to know herself the value she may hereafter set upon wealth. And,
independent of that inexperience, there is commonly so little stability,
so little internal hold, in the female character, that any sudden glare
of adventitious lure, will draw them, for the moment, from any and every
regular plan of substantial benefit. It remains, therefore, now to be
tried, if Beech Park, and its master united, can vie with the bright and
intoxicating incense of a life voluntarily risked, in support ... not of
her fair fame, that was unknown to its defender ... but simply of the
fair countenance which seemed its pledge.'
Edgar, heartless and sad, attempted no further argument; he thought the
Doctor prejudiced against the merits of Camilla; yet it appeared, even
to himself, that her whole conduct, from the short period of his open
avowal, had seemed a wilful series of opposition to his requests and
opinions. And while terror for surrounding dangers gave weight to his
disapprobation of her visiting Southampton, with a lady she knew him to
think more attractive than safe or respectable, her sufferance of the
vulgar and forward Mrs. Mittin, with whom again he saw her quit the
hotel, was yet more offensive, since he could conceive for it no other
inducement than a careless, if not determined humour, to indulge every
impulse, in equal contempt of his counsel, and her own reflection.
All blame, however, of Camilla, was short of his self-dissatisfaction,
in the distance imposed upon him by uncertainty, and the coldness
dictated by discretion. At a period so sensitive, when her spirit was
alarmed, and her delicacy was wounded, that a stranger should start
forward, to vindicate her innocence, and chastise its detractors, was
singular, was unfortunate, was nearly intolerable; and he thought he
could with thankfulness, have renounced half his fortune, to have been
himself the sole protector of Camilla.
CHAPTER VIII
_The Power of Prepossession_
The two sisters were silent from the hotel to the house of Mrs.
Berlinton.... From the height of happiest expectation, raised by the
quick return of Edgar, Camilla was sunk into the lowest despondence, by
the abortive conclusion of the meeting: while Eugenia was absorbed in
mute joy, and wrapt expectation. But Mrs. Mittin, undisturbed by the
pangs of uncertainty, and unoccupied by any romantic persuasion of
bliss, spoke amply, with respect to quantity, for all three.
Mrs. Berlinton, though somewhat struck at first sight of Eugenia, with
her strange contrast to Camilla, received her with all the
distinguishing kindness due to the sister of her friend.
She had the poems of Collins in her hand; and, at their joint desire,
instead of putting the book aside, read aloud, and with tenderest
accent, one of his most plaintive odes.
Eugenia was enraptured. Ah! thought she, this is indeed the true sister
of the accomplished Melmond!... She shall share with him my adoration.
My heart shall be devoted ... after my own dear family ... to the homage
of their perfections!
The ode, to her great delight, lasted till the dinner was announced,
when Melmond appeared: but her prepossession could alone give any charm
to his sight: he could barely recollect that he had seen her, or even
Camilla before; he had conversed with neither; his eyes had been devoted
to Indiana, and the despondence which had become his portion since the
news of the marriage of his aunt, seemed but rendered the more
peculiarly bitter, by this intimate connection with the family of an
object so adored.
Yet, though nothing could be more spiritless than the hour of dinner,
Eugenia discovered in it no deficiency; she had previously settled, that
the presence of Melmond could only breathe sweets and perfection, and
the magic of prejudice works every event into its own circle of
expectation.
Melmond did not even accompany them back to the drawing-room. Eugenia
sighed; but nobody heard her. Mrs. Mittin said, she had something of
great consequence to do in her own room, and Mrs. Berlinton, to divert
the languor she found creeping upon them all, had recourse to Hammond's
elegies.
These were still reading, when a servant brought in the name of Lord
Valhurst. 'O, deny me to him! deny me to him!' cried Mrs. Berlinton;
''tis a relation of Mr. Berlinton's, and I hate him.'
The order was given, however, too late; he entered the room.
The name, as Camilla knew it not, she had heard unmoved; but the sight
of a person who had so largely contributed to shock and terrify her in
the bathing-house, struck her with horror. Brought up with the respect
of other times, she had risen at his entrance; but she turned suddenly
round upon recollecting him, and instead of the courtsie she intended
making, involuntarily moved away her chair from the part of the room to
which he was advancing.
This was unnoticed by Mrs. Berlinton, whose chagrin at his intrusion
made her wish to walk away also; while with Lord Valhurst it only
passed, joined to her rising, for a mark of her being but little
accustomed to company. That Eugenia rose too was not perceived, as she
rather lost than gained in height by standing.
Most obsequiously, but most unsuccessfully, the peer made his court to
Mrs. Berlinton; inquiring after her health, with fulsome tenderness, and
extolling her good looks with nearly gross admiration. Mrs. Berlinton
listened, for she was incapable of incivility; though, weary and
disgusted, she seldom made the smallest answer.
The two sisters might, with ease, equally have escaped notice, since,
though Mrs. Berlinton occasionally addressed them the peer never turned
from herself, had not Mrs. Mittin, abruptly entering in search of a pair
of scissors, perceived him, and hastily called out, 'O lauk, sir, if it
is not you! I know you again well enough! But I hope, now you see us in
such good company as this good lady's, you'll believe me another time,
when I tell you we're not the sort of persons you took us for! Miss
Tyrold, my dear, I hope you've spoke to the gentleman?'
Lord Valhurst with difficulty recollected Mrs. Mittin, from the very
cursory view his otherwise occupied eyes had taken of her; but when the
concluding words made him look at Camilla, whose youth and beauty were
not so liable to be forgotten, he knew at once her associate, and was
aware of the meaning of her harangue.
Sorry to appear before his fair kinswoman to any disadvantage, though by
no means displeased at an opportunity of again seeing a young creature
he had thought so charming, he began an apology to Mrs. Mittin, while
his eyes were fixed upon Camilla, vindicating himself from every
intention that was not respectful, and hoping she did not so much injure
as to mistake him.
Mrs. Mittin was just beginning to answer that she knew better, when the
words, 'Why, my Lord, how have you offended Mrs. Mittin?' dropping from
Mrs. Berlinton, instantly new strung all her notions. To find him a
nobleman was to find him innocent; for, though she did not quite suppose
that a peer was not a mortal, she had never spoken to one before; and
the power of title upon the ear, like that of beauty upon the eye, is,
in its first novelty, all-commanding; manifold as are the drawbacks to
the influence of either, when awe is lost by familiarity, and habitual
reflection takes place of casual and momentary admiration. Title then,
as well as beauty, demands mental auxiliaries; and those who possess
either, more watched than the common race, seem of higher
responsibility; but proportioned to the censure they draw where they
err, is the veneration they inspire where their eminence is complete.
Nor is this the tribute of prejudice, as those who look up to all
superiority with envy love to aver; the impartial and candid reflectors
upon human frailty, who, in viewing it, see with its elevation its
surrounding temptations, will call it but the tribute of justice.
To Mrs. Mittin, however, the mere sound of a title was enough; she felt
its ascendance without examining its claims, and, dropping the lowest
courtsie her knees could support, confusedly said, she hoped his
lordship would excuse her speaking so quick and improperly, which she
only did from not knowing who he was; for, if she had known him better,
she should have been sure he was too much the gentleman to do anything
with an ill design.
His lordship courteously accepted the apology; and advanced to Camilla,
to express his hopes she had not participated in such injurious
suspicions.
She made no answer, and Mrs. Berlinton inquired what all this meant.
'I protest, my dear madam,' said the peer, 'I do not well comprehend
myself. I only see there has been some misunderstanding; but I hope this
young lady will believe me, when I declare, upon my honour, that I had
no view but to offer my protection, at the time I saw her under alarm.'
This was a declaration Camilla could not dispute, and even felt inclined
to credit, from the solemnity with which it was uttered; but to discuss
it was every way impossible, and therefore, coldly bowing her head, she
seemed acquiescent.
Lord Valhurst now pretty equally divided his attention between these two
beautiful young women; looking at and complimenting them alternately,
till a servant came in and said, 'The two Mr. Westwyns desire to see
Miss Tyrold.'
Camilla did not wish to avoid persons to whom she was so much obliged,
but begged she might receive them in the next apartment, that Mrs.
Berlinton might not be disturbed.
The eager old gentleman stood with the door in one hand, and his son in
the other, awaiting her. 'My dear young lady,' he cried, 'I have been
hunting you out for hours. Your good governess had not a mind to give me
your direction, thinking me, I suppose, but a troublesome old fellow;
and I did not know which way to turn, till Hal found it out. Hal's
pretty quick. So now, my dear young lady, let me tell you my errand;
which I won't be tedious in, for fear, another time, you may rather not
see me. And the more I see you, the less I like to think such a thing.
However, with all my good will to make haste, I must premise one thing,
as it is but fair. Hal was quite against my coming upon this business.
But I don't think it the less right for that; and so I come. I never yet
saw any good of a man's being ruled by his children. It only serves to
make them think their old fathers superannuated. And if once I find Hal
taking such a thing as that into his head, I'll cut him off with a
shilling, well as I love him.'
'Your menace, sir,' said Henry, colouring, though smiling, 'gives me no
alarm, for I see no danger. But ... shall we not detain Miss Tyrold too
long from her friends?'
'Ay now, there comes in what I take notice to be the taste of the
present day! a lad can hardly enter his teens, before he thinks himself
wiser than his father, and gives him his counsel, and tells him what he
thinks best. And, if a man i'n't upon his guard, he may be run down for
an old dotard, before he knows where he is, and see his son setting up
for a member of parliament, making laws for him. Now this is what I
don't like; so I keep a tight hand upon Hal, that he mayn't do it. For
Hal's but a boy, ma'am, though he's so clever. Not that I pretend I'd
change him neither, for e'er an old fellow in the three kingdoms. Well,
but, now I'll tell you what I come for. You know how angry I was about
Hal's turning that man out of the room? well, I took all the pains I
could to come at the bottom of the fray, intending, all the time, to
make Hal ask the man's pardon; and now what do you think is the end?
Why, I've found out Hal to be in the right! The man proves to be a
worthless fellow, that has defamed the niece of my dear Sir Hugh Tyrold;
and if Hal had lashed him with a cat-o'nine-tails, I should have been
glad of it. I can't say I should have found fault. So you see, my dear
young lady, I was but a cross old fellow, to be so out of sorts with
poor Hal.'
Camilla, with mingled gratitude and shame, offered her acknowledgments;
though what she heard astonished, if possible, even more than it
mortified her. How in the world, thought she, can I have provoked this
slander?
She knew not how little provocation is necessary for calumny; nor how
regularly the common herd, where appearances admit two interpretations,
decide for the worst. Girt designed her neither evil nor good; but not
knowing who nor what she was, simply filled up the doubts in his own
mind, by the bias of his own character.
Confused as much as herself, Henry proposed immediately to retire; and,
as Camilla did not invite them to stay, Mr. Westwyn could not refuse his
consent: though, sending his son out first, he stopt to say, in a low
voice, 'What do you think of Hal, my dear young lady? I'n't he a brave
rogue? And did not you tell me I might be proud of my son? And so I am,
I promise you! How do you think my old friend will like Hal? I shall
take him to Cleves. He's another sort of lad to Master Clermont! I hope,
my dear young lady, you don't like your cousin? He's but a sad spark, I
give you my word. Not a bit like Hal.'
* * * * *
When the carriage came for Eugenia, who was self-persuaded this day was
the most felicitous of her life, she went so reluctantly, that Mrs.
Berlinton, caught by her delight in the visit, though unsuspicious of
its motive, invited her to renew it the next morning.