At night, Mrs. Mittin, following Camilla to her chamber, said, 'See

here, my dear! what do you say to this? Did you ever see a prettier

cloak? look at the cut of it, look at the capes! look at the mode! And

as for the lace, I don't think all Southampton can produce its fellow;

what do you say to it, my dear?'

'What every body must say to it, Mrs. Mittin; that it's remarkably

pretty.'

'Well, now try it on. There's a set! there's a fall off the shoulders!

do but look at it in the glass. I'd really give something you could but

see how it becomes you. Now, do pray, only tell me what you think of

it?'

'Always the same, Mrs. Mittin; that it's extremely pretty.'

'Well, my dear, then, now comes out the secret! It's your own! you may

well stare; but it's true; it's your own, my dear!'

She demanded an explanation; and Mrs. Mittin said, that, having taken

notice that her cloak looked very mean by the side of Mrs. Berlinton's,

when she compared them together, she resolved upon surprising her with a

new one as quick as possible. She had, therefore, got the pattern of

Mrs. Berlinton's and cut it out, and then got the mode at an

haberdasher's, and then the lace at a milliner's, and then set to work

so hard, that she had got it done already.

Camilla, seeing the materials were all infinitely richer than any she

had been accustomed to wear, was extremely chagrined by such

officiousness, and gravely inquired how much this would add to her

debts.

'I don't know yet, my dear; but I had all the things as cheap as

possible; but as it was not all at one shop, I can't be clear as to the

exact sum.'

Camilla, who had determined to avoid even the shadow of a debt, and to

forbear every possible expence till she had not one remaining, was now

not merely vexed, but angry. Mrs. Mittin, however, upon whose feelings

that most troublesome of all qualities to its possessors, delicacy,

never obtruded, went on, extolling her own performance, and praising her

own good nature, without discovering that either were impertinent; and,

so far from conceiving it possible they could be unwelcome, that she

attributed the concern of Camilla to modesty, on account of her trouble;

and mistook her displeasure for distress, what she could do for her in

return. And, indeed, when she finished her double panegyric upon the

cloak and its maker, with confessing she had sat up the whole night, in

order to get it done, Camilla considered herself as too much obliged to

her intention to reproach any further its want of judgment; and

concluded by merely entreating she would change her note, pay for it

immediately, discharge her other accounts with all speed, and make no

future purchase for her whatsoever.

CHAPTER IX

_A Scuffle_

Eugenia failed not to observe her appointment the next morning, which

was devoted to elegiac poetry. A taste so similar operated imperceptibly

upon Mrs. Berlinton, who detained her till she was compelled to return

to prepare for a great ball at the public rooms; the profound

deliberations of Miss Margland, how to exhibit her fair pupil, having

finished, like most deliberations upon such subjects, by doing that

which is done by every body else upon the same occasion.

Sir Hugh had given directions to Miss Margland to clear his three nieces

equally of all expenses relative to public places. Camilla, therefore,

being entitled to a ticket, and having brought with her whatever was

unspoilt of her Tunbridge apparel, thought this the most seasonable

opportunity she could take for again seeing Edgar, who, in their present

delicate situation, would no longer, probably, think it right to inquire

for her at a stranger's.

Mrs. Berlinton had not purposed appearing in public, till she had formed

her own party; but an irrepressible curiosity to see Indiana induced her

to accompany Camilla, with no other attendant than Lord Valhurst.

Mrs. Mittin sought vainly to be of the party; Mrs. Berlinton, though

permitting her stay in her house, and treating her with constant

civility, had no idea of including her in her own society, which she

aimed to have always distinguished by either rank, talents, or admirers:

and Camilla, who now felt her integrity involved in her economy, was

firm against every hint for assisting her with a ticket.

Lord Valhurst, who alone, of the fashionable sojourners, had yet

discovered the arrival of Mrs. Berlinton, was highly gratified by this

opportunity of attending two such fair creatures in public.

Mrs. Berlinton, as usual, was the last to enter the room; for she never

began the duties of the toilette till after tea-time. Two such youthful

beauties were not likely to pass without observation.

Mrs. Berlinton, already no longer new to it, had alternately the air of

receiving it with the most winning modesty, or of not noticing she

received it at all: for though, but a few months since, she had scarcely

been even seen by twenty persons, and even of those had never met a

fixed eye without a blush, the feelings are so often the mere

concomitants of the habits, that she could now already know herself the

principal object of a whole assembly, without any sensation of timidity,

or appearance of confusion. To be bold was not in her nature, which was

soft and amiable; but admiration is a dangerous assaulter of diffidence,

and familiarity makes almost any distinction met unmoved.

Camilla was too completely engrossed by her heart, to think of her

appearance.

Lord Valhurst, from his time of life, seemed to be their father, though

his adulating air as little suited that character as his inclination. He

scarce knew upon which most to lavish his compliments, or to regale his

eyes, and turned, half expiring with ecstasy, from the soft charms of

his kinswoman, with something, he thought, resembling animation, to the

more quickening influence of her bright-eyed companion.

But the effect produced upon the company at large by the radiant beauty

of Indiana, who had entered some time, was still more striking than any

immediate powers from all the bewitching graces of Mrs. Berlinton, and

all the intelligent loveliness of Camilla. Her faultless face, her

perfect form, raised wonder in one sex, and overpowered envy in the

other. The men looked at her, as at something almost too celestial for

their devoirs; the women, even the most charming amongst them, saw

themselves distanced from all pretensions to rivalry. She was followed,

but not approached; gazed at, as if a statue, and inquired after,

rather as a prodigy than a mortal.

This awful homage spread not, however, to her party; the watchful but

disdainful eyes of Miss Margland obtained for herself, even with usury,

all the haughty contempt they bestowed upon others: Eugenia was

pronounced to be a foil, brought merely in ridicule: and Dr. Orkborne,

whom Miss Margland, though detesting, forced into the set, in preference

to being without a man, to hand them from the carriage, and to call it

for them at night, had a look so forlorn and distressed, while obliged

to parade with them up and down the room, that he seemed rather a

prisoner than an esquire, and more to require a guardian to prevent his

escaping himself, than to serve for one in securing his young charges

from any attack.

Miss Margland augured nothing short of half a score proposals of

marriage the next day, from the evident brilliancy of this first opening

into life of her beautiful pupil; whose own eyes, while they dazzled all

others, sought eagerly those of Melmond, which they meant to vanquish,

if not annihilate.

The first care of Miss Margland was to make herself and her young ladies

known to the master of the ceremonies. Indiana needed not that

precaution to be immediately the choice of the most elegant man in the

room; yet she was piqued, not delighted, and Miss Margland felt still

more irritated, that he proved to be only a baronet, though a nobleman,

at the same time, had presented himself to Eugenia. It is true the peer

was ruined; but his title was unimpaired; and though the fortune of the

baronet, like his person, was in its prime, Indiana thought herself

degraded by his hand, since the partner of her cousin was of superior

rank.

Eugenia, insensible to this honour, looked only for Melmond; not like

Indiana, splendidly to see and kill, but silently to view and venerate.

Melmond, however, was not there; he knew his little command over his

passion, in presence of its object; he knew, too, that the expence of

public places was not beyond the propriety of his income, and virtuously

devoted his evening to his sick aunt.

Edgar had waited impatiently the entrance of Camilla. His momentary

sight of Lord Valhurst, at the bathing-room, did not bring him to his

remembrance in his present more shewy apparel, and he was gratified to

see only an old beau in her immediate suite. He did not deem it proper,

as they were now circumstanced, to ask her to dance; but he quietly

approached and bowed to her, and addressed some civil inquiries to Mrs.

Berlinton. The Westwyns had waited for her at the door; and the father

had immediately made her give her hand to Henry to join the dancers.

'That's a charming girl,' cried old Mr. Westwyn, when she was gone; 'a

very charming girl, I promise you. I have taken a prodigious liking to

her; and so has Hal.'

Revived by this open speech, which made him hope there was no serious

design, Edgar smiled upon the old gentleman, who had addressed it to the

whole remaining party; and said, 'You have not known that young lady

long, I believe, sir?'

'No, sir; but a little while; but that I don't mind. A long while and a

short while is all one, when I like a person: for I don't think how many

years they've got over their heads since first I saw them, but how many

good things they've got on the inside their hearts to make me want to

see them again. Her uncle's the dearest friend I have in the world; and

when I go from this place, I shall make him a visit; for I'm sure of a

welcome. But he has never seen my Hal. However, that good girl will be

sure to speak a kind word for him, I know; for she thinks very well of

him; she told me herself, I might be proud of my son. I can't say but

I've loved the girl ever since for it.'

Edgar was so much pleased with the perfectly natural character of this

old gentleman, that, though alarmed at his intended call upon the favour

of Sir Hugh, through the influence of Camilla, for Henry, he would yet

have remained in his society, had he not been driven from it by the

junction of young Lynmere, whose shallow insolence he thought

insupportable.

Mrs. Berlinton, who declined dancing, had arrived so late, that when

Henry led back Camilla, the company was summoned to the tea-table. She

was languishing for an introduction to Indiana, the absence of Melmond

obviating all present objection to their meeting; she therefore gave

Camilla the welcome task to propose that the two parties should unite.

Many years had elapsed since Miss Margland had received so sensible a

gratification; and, in the coalition which took place, she displayed

more of civility in a few minutes, than she had exerted during the whole

period of her Yorkshire and Cleves residence.

Notwithstanding all she had heard of her charms, Mrs. Berlinton still

saw with surprise and admiration the exquisite face and form of the

chosen of her brother, whom she now so sincerely bewailed, that, had her

own wealth been personal or transferrable, she would not have hesitated

in sharing it with him, to aid his better success.

Lord Valhurst adhered tenaciously to his kinswoman; and the three

gentlemen who had danced the last dances with Indiana, Eugenia, and

Camilla, asserted the privilege of attending their partners at the

tea-table.

In a few minutes, Lynmere, coming up to them, with 'Well, have you got

any thing here one can touch?' leant his hand on the edge, and his whole

body over the table, to take a view at his ease of its contents.

'Suppose there were nothing, sir?' said old Westwyn; 'look round, and

see what you could want.'

'Really, sir,' said Miss Margland, between whom and Camilla Lynmere had

squeezed himself a place, 'you don't use much ceremony!'

Having taken some tea, he found it intolerable, and said he must have a

glass of Champagne.

'La, brother!' cried Indiana, 'if you bring any wine, I can't bear to

stay.'

Miss Margland said the same; but he whistled, and looked round him

without answering.

Mrs. Berlinton, who, though she had thought his uncommonly fine person

an excuse for his intrusion, thought nothing could excuse this

ill-breeding, proposed they should leave the tea-table, and walk.

'Sit still, ladies,' said Mr. Westwyn, 'and drink your tea in peace.'

Then, turning to Lynmere, 'I wonder,' he cried, 'you a'n't ashamed of

yourself! If you were a son of mine, I'll tell you what; I'd lock you

up! I'd serve you as I did when I carried you over to Leipsic, eight

years ago. I always hated pert boys. I can't fancy 'em.'

Lynmere, affecting not to hear him, though inwardly firing, called

violently after a waiter; and, in mere futile vengeance, not only gave

an order for Champagne, but demanded some Stilton cheese.

'Cheese!' exclaimed Miss Margland, 'if you order any cheese, I can't so

much as stay in the room. Think what a nauseous smell it will make!'

The man answered, they had no Stilton cheese in the house, but the very

best of every other sort.

Lynmere, who had only given this command to shew his defiance of

control, seized, with equal avidity, the opportunity to abuse the

waiter; affirming he belonged to the worst served hotel in Christendom.

The man walked off in dudgeon, and Mr. Westwyn, losing his anger in his

astonishment at this effrontery, said, 'And pray, Mr. Lynmere, what do

you pretend to know of Stilton cheese? do they make it at Leipsic? did

you ever so much as taste it in your life?'

'O, yes! excellent! excellentissimo! I can eat no other.'

'Eat no other! it's well my Hal don't say the same! I'd churn him to a

cheese himself if he did! And pray, Mr. Lynmere, be so good as to let me

know how you got it there?'

'Ways and means, sir; ways and means!'

'Why you did not send across the sea for it?'

'A travelled man, sir, thinks no more of what you call across the sea,

than you, that live always over your own fire-side, think of stepping

across a kennel.'

'Well, sir, well,' said the old gentleman, now very much piqued, 'I

can't but say I feel some concern for my old friend, to have his money

doused about at such a rantipole rate. A boy to be sending over out of

Germany into England for Stilton cheese! I wish it had been Hal with all

my heart! I promise you I'd have given him enough of it. If the least

little thought of the kind was but once to have got in his head, I'd

have taken my best oaken stick, and have done him the good office to

have helped it out for him: and have made him thank me after too! I hate

daintiness; especially in boys. I have no great patience with it.'

Only more incensed, Lynmere called aloud for his Champagne. The waiter

civilly told him, it was not usual to bring wine during tea: but he

persisted; and Mr. Westwyn, who saw the ladies all rising,

authoritatively, told the waiter to mind no such directions. Lynmere,

who had entered the ball-room in his riding-dress, raised a switch at

the man, which he durst not raise at Mr. Westwyn, and protested, in a

threatening attitude, he would lay it across his shoulders, if he obeyed

not. The man, justly provoked, thought himself authorised to snatch if

from him: Clermont resisted; a fierce scuffle ensued; and though Henry,

by immediate intervention, could have parted them, Mr. Westwyn insisted

there should be no interference, saying, 'If any body's helped, let it

be the waiter; for he's here to do his duty: he don't come only to

behave unmannerly, for his own pleasure. And if I see him hard run, it's

odds but I lend him my own fist to right him.--I like fair play.'

The female party, in very serious alarm at this unpleasant scene, rose

to hurry away. Lord Valhurst was ambitious to suffice as guardian to

both his fair charges; but Henry, when prohibited from stopping the

affray, offered his services to Camilla, who could not refuse them; and

Mrs. Berlinton, active and impatient, flew on foremost; with more speed

than his lordship could follow, or even keep in sight. Indiana was

handed out by her new adorer, the young baronet; and Eugenia was

assisted by her new assailer, the young nobleman.

Edgar, who had hurried to Camilla at the first tumult, was stung to the

heart to see who handed her away; and, forcing a passage, followed, till

Henry, the envied Henry, deposited her in the carriage of Mrs.

Berlinton.

The confusion in the room, meanwhile, was not likely soon to decrease,

for old Mr. Westwyn, delighted by this mortifying chastisement to

Clermont, would permit neither mediation nor assistance on his side;

saying, with great glee, 'It will do him a great deal of good! My poor

old friend will bless me for it. This is a better lesson than he got in

all Leipsic. Let him feel that a Man's a Man; and not take it into his

head a person's to stand still to be switched, when he's doing his duty,

according to his calling. Switching a man is a bad thing. I can't say I

like it. A gentleman should always use good words; and then a poor man's

proud to serve him; or, if he's insolent for nothing, he may trounce him

and welcome. I've no objection.'

Miss Margland, meanwhile, had not been remiss in what she esteemed a

most capital feminine accomplishment, screaming; though, in its

exercise, she had failed of any success; since, while her voice called

remark, her countenance repelled its effect. Yet as she saw that not one

lady of the group retreated unattended, she thought it a disgrace to

seem the only female, who, from internal courage, or external neglect,

should retire alone; she therefore called upon Dr. Orkborne, conjuring,

in a shrill and pathetic voice, meant more for all who surrounded than

for himself, that he would protect her.

The Doctor, who had kept his place in defiance of all sort of

inconvenience, either to himself or to others; and who, with some

curiosity, was viewing the combat, which he was mentally comparing with

certain pugilistic games of old, was now, for the first time in the

evening, receiving some little entertainment, and therefore composedly

answered, 'I have a very good place here, ma'am; and I would rather not

quit it till this scene is over.'

'So you won't come, then, Doctor?' cried she, modulating into a soft

whine the voice which rage, not terror, rendered tremulous.

Dr. Orkborne, who was any thing rather than loquacious, having given one

answer, said no more.

Miss Margland appealed to all present upon the indecorum of a lady's

being kept to witness such unbecoming violence, and upon the unheard-of

inattention of the Doctor: but a short, 'Certainly!--' 'To be sure,

ma'am!--' or, 'It's very shocking indeed!' with a hasty decampment from

her neighbourhood, was all of sympathy she procured.

The entrance, at length, of the master of the house, stopt the affray,

by calling off the waiter. Clermont, then, though wishing to extirpate

old Westwyn from the earth, and ready to eat his own flesh with fury at

the double disgrace he had endured, affected a loud halloo, as if he had

been contending for his amusement; and protesting Bob, the waiter, was a

fine fellow, went off with great apparent satisfaction.

'Now, then, at least, sir,' cried Miss Margland, imperiously to the

Doctor, who, still ruminating upon the late contest, kept his seat, 'I

suppose you'll condescend to take care of me to the coach?'

'These modern clothes are very much in the way,' said the Doctor,

gravely; 'and give a bad effect to attitudes.' He rose, however, but not

knowing what _to take care of a lady to a coach_ meant, stood resolutely

still, till she was forced, in desperation, to walk on alone. He then

slowly followed, keeping many paces behind, notwithstanding her

continually looking back; and when, with a heavy sigh at her hard fate,

she got, unassisted, into the carriage, where her young ladies were

waiting, he tranquilly mounted after her, tolerably reconciled to the

loss of his evening, by some new annotations it had suggested for his

work, relative to the games of antiquity.

CHAPTER X

_A Youthful Effusion_

Camilla now thought herself safe in harbour; the storms all over, the

dangers all past, and but a light gale or two wanting to make good her

landing on the bosom of permanent repose. This gale, this propitious

gale, she thought ready to blow at her call; for she deemed it no other

than the breath of jealousy. She had seen Edgar, though he knew her to

be protected, follow her to the coach, and she had seen, by the light

afforded from the lamps of the carriage, that her safety from the crowd

and tumult was not the sole object of his watchfulness, since though

that, at the instant she turned round, was obviously secure, his

countenance exhibited the strongest marks of disturbance. The secret

spring, therefore, she now thought, that was to re-unite them, was in

her own possession.

All the counsels of Mrs. Arlbery upon this subject occurred to her; and

imagining she had hitherto erred from a simple facility, she rejoiced in

the accident which had pointed her to a safer path, and shewn her that,

in the present disordered state of the opinions of Edgar, the only way

to a lasting accommodation was to alarm his security, by asserting her

own independence.

Her difficulty, however, was still considerable as to the means. The

severe punishment she had received, and the self blame and penitence she

had incurred, from her experiment with Sir Sedley Clarendel, all

rendered, too, abortive, by Edgar's contempt of the object, determined

her to suffer no hopes, no feelings of her own, to engross her ever more

from weighing those of another. The end, therefore, of her deliberation

was to shew general gaiety, without appropriate favour, and to renew

solicitude on his part by a displayed ease of mind on her own.

Elated with this idea, she determined upon every possible public

exhibition by which she could execute it to the best advantage. Mrs.

Berlinton had but to appear, to secure the most fashionable persons at

Southampton for her parties, and soon renewed the same course of life

she had lived at Tunbridge, of seeing company either at home or abroad

every day, except when some accidental plan offered a scheme of more

novelty.

Upon all these occasions, young Westwyn, though wholly unsought, and

even unthought of by Camilla, was instinctively and incautiously the

most alert to second her plan; he was her first partner when she danced,

her constant attendant when she walked, and always in wait to converse

with her when she was seated; while, not purposing to engage him, she

perceived not his fast growing regard, and intending to be open to all

alike, observed not the thwarting effect to her design of this peculiar

assiduity.

By old Mr. Westwyn this intercourse was yet more urgently forwarded.

Bewitched with Camilla, he carried his son to her wherever she appeared,

and said aloud to everybody but herself: 'If the boy and girl like one

another, they shall have one another; and I won't inquire what she's

worth; for she thinks so well of my son, that I'd rather he'd have her

than an empress. Money goes but a little way to make people happy; and

true love's not a thing to be got every day; so if she has a mind to my

Hal, and Hal has a mind to her, why, if they have not enough, he must

work hard and get more. I don't like to cross young people. Better let a

man labour with his hands, than fret away his spirit. Neither a boy nor

a girl are good for much when they've got their hearts broke.'

This new experiment of Camilla, like every other deduced from false

reasoning, and formed upon false principles, was flattering in its

promise, pernicious in its progress, and abortive in its performance.

Edgar saw with agony what he conceived the ascendance of a new

attachment built upon the declension of all regard for himself; and in

the first horror of his apprehensions, would have resisted the

supplanter by enforcing his own final claim; but Dr. Marchmont

represented that, since he had heard in silence his right to that claim

solemnly withdrawn, he had better first ascertain if this apparent

connection with young Westwyn were the motive, or only the consequence

of that resumption: 'If the first be the case,' he added, 'you must

trust her no more; a heart so inflammable as to be kindled into passion

by a mere accidental blaze of gallantry and valour, can have nothing in

consonance with the chaste purity and fidelity your character requires

and merits: If the last, investigate whether the net in which she is

entangling herself is that of levity, delighting in change, or of pique,

disguising its own agitation in efforts to agitate others.'

'Alas!' cried the melancholy Edgar, 'in either case, she is no more the

artless Camilla I first adored! that fatal connection at the Grove,

formed while her character, pure, white, and spotless, was in its

enchanting, but dangerous state of first ductility, has already broken

into that clear transparent singleness of mind, so beautiful in its

total ignorance of every species of scheme, every sort of double

measure, every idea of secret view and latent expedient!'

'Repine not, however, at the connection till you know whether she owe to

it her defects, or only their manifestation. A man should see the woman

he would marry in many situations, ere he can judge what chance he may

have of happiness with her in any. Though now and then 'tis a blessed,

'tis always a perilous state; but the man who has to weather its storms,

should not be remiss in studying the clouds which precede them.'

'Ah, Doctor! by this delay ... by these experiments ... should I lose

her!...'

'If by finding her unworthy, where is the loss?'

Edgar sighed, but acknowledged this question to be unanswerable.

'Think, my dear young friend, what would be your sufferings to discover

any radical, inherent failing, when irremediably hers! run not into the

very common error of depending upon the gratitude of your wife after

marriage, for the inequality of her fortune before your union. She who

has no fortune at all, owes you no more for your alliance, than she who

has thousands; for you do not marry her because she has no fortune! you

marry her because you think she has some endowment, mental or personal,

which you conclude will conduce to your happiness; and she, on her part,

accepts you, because she supposes you or your situation will contribute

to hers. The object may be different, but neither side is indebted to

the other, since each has self, only, in contemplation; and thus, in

fact, rich or poor, high or low, whatever be the previous distinction

between the parties, on the hour of marriage they begin as equals. The

obligation and the debt of gratitude can only commence when the knot is

tied: self, then, may give way to sympathy; and whichever, from that

moment, most considers the other, becomes immediately the creditor in

the great account of life and happiness.'

* * * * *

While Camilla, in gay ignorance of danger, and awake only to hope,

pursued her new course, Eugenia had the infinite delight of improving

daily and even hourly in the good graces of Mrs. Berlinton; who soon

discovered how wide from justice to that excellent young creature was

all judgment that could be formed from her appearance. She found that

she was as elegant in her taste for letters as herself, and far more

deeply cultivated in their knowledge; that her manners were gentle, her

sentiments were elevated, yet that her mind was humble; the same authors

delighted and the same passages struck them; they met every morning;

they thought every morning too short, and their friendship, in a very

few days, knit by so many bands of sympathy, was as fully established as

that which already Mrs. Berlinton had formed with Camilla.

To Eugenia this treaty of amity was a delicious poison, which, while it

enchanted her faculties by day, preyed upon her vitals by night. She

frequently saw Melmond, and though a melancholy bow was almost all the

notice she ever obtained from him, the countenance with which he made

it, his air, his figure, his face, nay his very dress, for the half

instant he bestowed upon her, occupied all her thoughts till she saw him

again, and had another to con over and dwell upon.

Melmond, inexpressibly wretched at the deprivation of all hope of

Indiana, at the very period when fortune seemed to favour his again

pursuing her, dreamt not of this partiality. His time was devoted to

deliberating upon some lucrative scheme of future life, which his

literary turn of mind rendered difficult of selection, and which his

refined love of study and retirement made hateful to him to undertake.

He was kind, however, and even consoling to his aunt, who saw his nearly

desolate state with a compunction bitterly increased by finding she had

thrown their joint properties, with her own person, into the hands of a

rapacious tyrant. To soften her repentance, and allow her the soothing

of all she could spare of her own time, Mrs. Berlinton invited her to

her own house. Mr. Ulst, of course included in the invitation, made the

removal with alacrity, not for the pleasure it procured his wife, but

for the money it saved himself; and Mrs. Mittin voluntarily resigned to

them the apartment she had chosen for her own, by way of a little

peace-offering for her undesired length of stay; for still, though

incessantly Camilla inquired for her account, she had received no answer

from the creditors, and was obliged to wait for another and another

post.

Mrs. Ulst, though not well enough, at present, to see company, and at

all times, fanatically averse to every species of recreation, could not

entirely avoid Eugenia, whose visits were constant every morning, and

whose expected inheritance made a similar wish occur for her nephew,

with that which had disposed of her niece; for she flattered herself

that if once she could see them both in possession of great wealth, her

mind would be more at ease.

She communicated this idea to Mr. Ulst, who, most willing, also, to get

rid of the reproach of the poverty and ruin of Melmond, imparted it,

with strong exhortation for its promotion, to the young man; but he

heard with disdain the mercenary project, and protested he would daily

labour for his bread, in preference to prostituting his probity, by

soliciting a regard he could never return, for the acquirement of a

fortune which he never could merit.

Mr. Ulst, much too hard to feel this as any reflection upon himself,

applied for the interest of Mrs. Berlinton; but she so completely

thought with her brother, that she would not interfere, till Mr. Ulst

made some observations upon Eugenia herself, that inclined her to waver.

He soon remarked, in that young and artless character, the symptoms of

the partiality she had conceived in favour of Melmond, which, when once

pointed out, could not be mistaken by Mrs. Berlinton, who, though more

than equally susceptible with Eugenia, was self-occupied, and saw

neither her emotion at his name, nor her timid air at his approach, till

Mr. Ulst, whose discernment had been quickened by his wishes, told her

when, and for what, to look.

Touched now, herself, by the double happiness that might ensue, from a

gratified choice to Eugenia, and a noble fortune to her brother, she

took up the cause, with delicacy, yet with pity; representing all the

charming mental and intellectual accomplishments of Eugenia, and

beseeching him not to sacrifice both his interest and his peace, in

submitting to a hopeless passion for one object, while he inflicted all

its horrors upon another.

Melmond, amazed and softened, listened and sighed; but protested such a

change, from all of beauty to all of deformity, was impracticable; and

that though he revered the character she painted, and was sensible to

the honour of such a preference, he must be base, double, and perjured,

to take advantage of her great, yet unaccountable goodness, by heartless

professions of feigned participation.

Mrs. Berlinton, to whom sentiment was irresistible, urged the matter no

longer, but wept over her brother, with compassionate admiration.

Another day only passed, when Mrs. Mittin picked up a paper upon the

stairs, which she saw fall from the pocket of Eugenia, in drawing out

her handkerchief, but which, determining to read ere she returned, she

found contained these lines.

'O Reason! friend of the troubled breast, guide of the wayward fancy,

moderator of the flights of hope, and sinkings of despair, Eugenia calls

thee!'

O! to a feeble, suppliant Maid,

Light of Reason, lend thy aid!

And with thy mild, thy lucid ray,

Point her the way

To genial calm and mental joy!

From Passion far! whose flashes bright

Startle--affright--

Yet ah! invite!

With varying powers attract, repel,

Now fiercely beam,

Now softly gleam,

With magic spell

Charm to consume, win to destroy!

Ah! lead her from the chequer'd glare

So false, so fair!--

Ah, quick from Passion bid her fly,

Its sway repulse, its wiles defy;

And to a feeble, suppliant heart

Thy aid, O Reason's light, impart!

Next, Eugenia, point thy prayer

That He whom all thy wishes bless,

Whom all thy tenderest thoughts confess,

Thy calm may prove, thy peace may share.

O, if the griefs to him assign'd,

To thee might pass--thy strengthened mind

Would meet all woe, support all pain,

Suffering despise, complaint disdain,

Brac'd with new nerves each ill would brave,

From Melmond but one pang to save!'

Overjoyed by the possession of the important secret this little juvenile

effusion of tenderness betrayed, Mrs. Mittin ran with it to Mrs.

Berlinton, and without mentioning she had seen whence the paper came,

said she had found it upon the stairs: for even those who have too

little delicacy to attribute to treachery a clandestine indulgence of

curiosity, have a certain instinctive sense of its unfairness, which

they evince without avowing, by the care with which they soften their

motives, or their manner, of according themselves this species of

gratification.

Mrs. Berlinton, who scrupulously would have withheld from looking into a

letter, could not see a copy of verses, and recognise the hand of

Eugenia, already known to her by frequent notes, and refrain reading.

That she should find any thing personal, did not occur to her; to

peruse, therefore, a manuscript ode or sonnet, which the humility of

Eugenia might never voluntarily reveal, caused her no hesitation; and

she ran through the lines with the warmest delight, till, coming

suddenly upon the end, she burst into tears, and flew to the apartment

of her brother.

She put the paper into his hand without a word. He read it hastily.

Surprised, confounded, disordered, he looked at his sister for some

explanation or comment; she was still silently in tears; he read it

again, and with yet greater emotion; when, holding it back to her, 'Why,

my sister,' he cried, 'why would she give you this? why would you

deliver it? Ah! leave me, in pity, firm in integrity, though fallen in

fortune!'

'My brother, my dear brother, this matchless creature merits not so

degrading an idea; she gave me not the precious paper ... she knows not

I possess it; it was found upon the stairs: Ah! far from thus openly

confessing her unhappy prepossession, she conceals it from every human

being; even her beloved sister, I am convinced, is untrusted; upon paper

only she has breathed it, and breathed it as you see ... with a

generosity of soul that is equal to the delicacy of her conduct.'

Melmond now felt subdued. To have excited such a regard in a mind that

seemed so highly cultivated, and so naturally elegant, could not fail to

touch him; and the concluding line deeply penetrated him with tender

though melancholy gratitude. He took the hand of his sister, returned

her the paper, and was going to say: 'Do whatever you think proper;' but

the idea of losing all right to adore Indiana checked and silenced him;

and mournfully telling her he required a little time for reflection, he

entreated to be left to himself.

He was not suffered to ruminate in quiet; Mrs. Mittin, proud of having

any thing to communicate to a relation of Mrs. Berlinton's, made an

opportunity to sit with Mrs. Ulst, purposely to communicate to her the

discovery that Miss Eugenia Tyrold was in love with, and wrote verses

upon, her nephew. Melmond was instantly sent for; the important secret

was enlarged upon with remonstrances so pathetic, not to throw away such

an invitation to the most brilliant good fortune, in order to cast

himself, with his vainly nourished passion, upon immediate hardships, or

lasting penury; that reason as well as interest, compelled him to

listen; and, after a severe conflict, he gave his reluctant promise to

see Eugenia upon her next visit, and endeavour to bias his mind to the

connexion that seemed likely to ensue.

Camilla, who was in total ignorance of the whole of this business,

received, during the dinner, an incoherent note from her sister,

conjuring that she would search immediately, but privately, in her own

chamber, in the dressing-room of Mrs. Berlinton, in the hall, and upon

the stairs, for a paper in her hand-writing, which she had somewhere

lost, but which she besought her, by all that she held dear, not to read

when she found; protesting she should shut herself up for ever from the

whole world, if a syllable of what she had written on that paper were

read by a human being.

Camilla could not endure to keep her sister a moment in this suspensive

state, and made an excuse for quitting the table that she might

instantly seek the manuscript. Melmond and Mrs. Berlinton both

conjectured the contents of the billet, and felt much for the modest and

timid Eugenia; but Mrs. Mittin could not confine herself to silent

suggestion; she rose also, and running after Camilla, said: 'My dear

Miss, has your sister sent to you to look for any thing?'

Camilla asked the meaning of her inquiry; and she then owned she had

picked up, from the stairs, a sort of love letter, in which Miss Eugenia

had wrote couplets upon Mr. Melmond.

Inexpressibly astonished, Camilla demanded their restoration; this soon

produced a complete explanation, and while, with equal surprise and

concern, she learnt the secret of Eugenia, and its discovery to its

object, she could not but respect and honour all she gathered from Mrs.

Berlinton of the behaviour of her brother upon the detection; and his

equal freedom from presumptuous vanity, or mercenary projects, induced

her to believe her sister's choice, though wholly new to her, was well

founded; and that if he could conquer his early propensity for Indiana,

he seemed, of all the characters she knew, Edgar alone and always

excepted, the most peculiarly formed for the happiness of Eugenia.

She begged to have the paper, and entreated her sister might never know

into whose hands it had fallen. This was cheerfully agreed to; but Mrs.

Mittin, during the conference, had already flown to Eugenia, and amidst

a torrent of offers of service, and professions of power to do any thing

she pleased for her, suffered her to see that her attachment was

betrayed to the whole house.

The agony of Eugenia was excessive; and she resolved to keep her chamber

till she returned to Cleves, that she might neither see nor be seen any

more by Melmond nor his family. Scarce could she bear to be broken in

upon even by Camilla, who tenderly hastened to console her. She hid her

blushing conscious face, and protested she would inhabit only her own

apartment for the rest of her life.

The active Mrs. Mittin failed not to carry back the history of this

resolution; and Melmond, to his unspeakable regret in being thus

precipitated, thought himself called upon in all decency and propriety

to an immediate declaration. He could not, however, assume fortitude to

make it in person; nor yet was his mind sufficiently composed for

writing; he commissioned, therefore, his sister to be the bearer of his

overtures.

He charged her to make no mention of the verses, which it was fitting

should, on his part, pass unnoticed, though she could not but be

sensible his present address was their consequence; he desired her

simply to state his high reverence for her virtues and talents, and his

consciousness of the inadequacy of his pretensions to any claim upon

them, except what arose from the grateful integrity of esteem with which

her happiness should become the first object of his future life, if she

forbade not his application for the consent of Sir Hugh and Mr. Tyrold

to solicit her favour.

With respect to Indiana, he begged her, unless questioned, to be wholly

silent. To say his flame for that adorable creature was extinguished

would be utterly false; but his peace, as much as his honour, would lead

him to combat, henceforth, by all the means in his power, his ill-fated

and woe-teeming passion.

This commission was in perfect consonance with the feelings of Mrs.

Berlinton, who, though with difficulty she gained admission, executed it

with the most tender delicacy to the terrified Eugenia, who, amazed and

trembling, pale and incredulous, so little understood what she heard, so

little was able to believe what she wished, that, when Mrs. Berlinton,

with an affectionate embrace, begged her answer, she asked if it was not

Indiana of whom she was speaking!

Mrs. Berlinton then thought it right to be explicit: she acknowledged

the early passion of her brother for that young lady, but stated that,

long before he had ventured to think of herself, he had determined its

conquest; and that what originally was the prudence of compulsion, was

now, from his altered prospects in life, become choice: 'And believe

me,' added she, 'from my long and complete knowledge of the honour and

the delicacy of his opinion, as well as of the tenderness and gratitude

of his nature, the woman who shall once receive his vows, will find his

life devoted to the study of her happiness.'

Eugenia flew into her arms, hung upon her bosom, wept, blushed, smiled,

and sighed, alternately; one moment wished Indiana in possession of her

fortune, the next thought she herself, in all but beauty, more formed

for his felicity, and ultimately gave her tacit but transported consent

to the application.

Melmond, upon receiving it, heaved what he fondly hoped would be his

last sigh for Indiana; and ordering his horse, set off immediately for

Cleves and Etherington; determined frankly to state his small income and

crushed expectations; and feeling almost equally indifferent to

acceptance or rejection.

Camilla devoted the afternoon to her agitated but enraptured sister, who

desired her secret might spread no further, till the will of her father

and uncle should decide its fate; but the loquacious Mrs. Mittin, having

some cheap ribands and fine edgings to recommend to Miss Margland and

Indiana, could by no means refrain from informing them, at the same

time, of the discovered manuscript.

'Poor thing!' cried Indiana, 'I really pity her. I don't think,'

imperceptibly gliding towards the glass; 'I don't think, by what I have

seen of Mr. Melmond, she has much chance; I've a notion he's rather more

difficult.'

'Really this is what I always expected!' said Miss Margland; 'It's just

exactly what one might look for from one of your learned educations,

which I always despised with all my heart. Writing love verses at

fifteen! Dr. Orkborne's made a fine hand of her! I always hated him,

from the very first. However, I've had nothing to do with the bringing

her up, that's my consolation! I thank Heaven I never made a verse in my

life! and I never intend it.'

CHAPTER XI

_The Computations of Self-Love_

Camilla left her sister to accompany Mrs. Berlinton to the Rooms; no

other mode remaining for seeing Edgar, who, since her rejection, had

held back from repeating his attempt of visiting Mrs. Berlinton.

In mutual solicitude, mutual watchfulness, and mutual trials of each

other's hearts and esteem, a week had already passed, without one hope

being extirpated, or one doubt allayed. This evening was somewhat more,

though less pleasantly decisive.

Accident, want of due consideration, and sudden recollection, in an

agitated moment, of the worldly doctrine of Mrs. Arlbery, had led

Camilla, once more, into the semblance of a character, which, without

thinking of, she was acting. Born simple and ingenuous, and bred to hold

in horror every species of art, all idea of coquetry was foreign to her

meaning, though an untoward contrariety of circumstances, playing upon

feelings too potent for deliberations, had eluded her into a conduct as

mischievous in its effects and as wide from artlessness in its

appearance, as if she had been brought up and nourished in fashionable

egotism.

Such, however, was not Camilla: her every propensity was pure, and, when

reflection came to her aid, her conduct was as exemplary as her wishes.

But the ardour of her imagination, acted upon by every passing idea,

shook her Judgment from its yet unsteady seat, and left her at the mercy

of wayward Sensibility--that delicate, but irregular power, which now

impels to all that is most disinterested for others, now forgets all

mankind, to watch the pulsations of its own fancies.

This evening brought her back to recollection.--Young Westwyn, urged by

what he deemed encouragement, and prompted by his impatient father,

spoke of his intended visit to Cleves, and introduction to Sir Hugh, in

terms of such animated pleasure, and with a manner of such open

admiration, that she could not mistake the serious purposes which he

meant to imply.

Alarmed, she looked at him; but the expression of his eyes was not such

as to still her suspicions. Frightened at what now she first observed,

she turned from him, gravely, meaning to avoid conversing with him the

rest of the evening; but her caution came too late; her first civilities

had flattered both him and his father into a belief of her favour, and

this sudden drawback he imputed only to virgin modesty, which but added

to the fervour of his devoirs.

Camilla now perceived her own error: the perseverance of young Westwyn

not merely startled, but appalled her. His character, unassuming, though

spirited, was marked by a general decency and propriety of demeanour,

that would not presumptuously brave distancing; and awakened her,

therefore, to a review of her own conduct, as it related or as it might

seem, to himself.

And here, not all the guiltlessness of her intentions could exonerate

her from blame with that finely scrutinizing monitor to which Heaven, in

pity to those evil propensities that law cannot touch, nor society

reclaim, has devolved its earthly jurisdiction in the human breast. With

her hopes she could play, with her wishes she could trifle, her

intentions she could defend, her designs she could relinquish--but with

her conscience she could not combat. It pointed beyond the present

moment; it took her back to her imprudence with Sir Sedley Clarendel,

which should have taught her more circumspection; and it carried her on

to the disappointment of Henry and his father, whom while heedlessly she

had won, though without the most remote view to beguile, she might seem

artfully to have caught, for the wanton vanity of rejecting.

While advice and retrospection were thus alike oppressive in accusation,

her pensive air and withdrawn smiles proved but more endearing to young

Westwyn, whose internal interpretation was so little adapted to render

them formidable, that his assiduities were but more tender, and allowed

her no repose.

Edgar, who with the most suffering suspense, observed her unusual

seriousness, and its effect upon Henry, drew from it, with the customary

ingenuity of sensitive minds to torment themselves, the same inference

for his causeless torture, as proved to his rival a delusive blessing.

But while thus he contemplated Henry as the most to be envied of

mortals, a new scene called forth new surprise, and gave birth to yet

new doubts in his mind. He saw Camilla not merely turn wholly away from

his rival, but enter into conversation, and give, apparently, her whole

attention to Lord Valhurst, who, it was palpable, only spoke to her of

her charms, which, alternately with those of Mrs. Berlinton, he devoted

his whole time to worshipping.

Camilla by this action, meant simply to take the quickest road she saw

in her power to shew young Westwyn his mistake. Lord Valhurst she held

nearly in aversion; for, though his vindication of his upright motives

at the bathing-house, joined to her indifference in considering him

either guilty or innocent, made her conclude he might be blameless in

that transaction, his perpetual compliments, enforced by staring eyes

and tender glances, wearied and disgusted her. But he was always by her

side, when not in the same position with Mrs. Berlinton; and while his

readiness to engage her made this her easiest expedient, his time of

life persuaded her it was the safest. Little aware of the effect this

produced upon Edgar, she imagined he would not more notice her in any

conversation with Lord Valhurst, than if she were discoursing with her

uncle.

But while she judged from the sincerity of reality, she thought not of

the mischief of appearance. What in her was designed with innocence, was

rendered suspicious to the observers by the looks and manner of her

companion. The pleasure with which he found, at last, that incense

received, which hitherto had been slighted, gave new zest to an

adulation which, while Camilla endured merely to shew her coldness to

young Westwyn, seemed to Edgar to be offered with a gross presumption of

welcome, that must result from an opinion it was addressed to a

confirmed coquette.

Offended in his inmost soul by this idea, he scarce desired to know if

she were now stimulated most by a wish to torment Henry, or himself, or

only by the general pleasure she found in this new mode of amusement.

'Be it,' cried he, to Dr. Marchmont, 'as it may, with me all is equally

over! I seek not to recall an attachment liable to such intermissions,

such commotions. What would be my peace, my tranquillity, with a

companion so unstable? A mind all at large in its pursuits?--a

dissipated wife!--No!--I will remain here but to let her know I

acquiesce in her dismission, and to learn in what form she has

communicated our breach to her friends.'

Dr. Marchmont was silent, and they walked out of the room together;

leaving the deceived Camilla persuaded he was so indifferent with regard

to the old peer, that all her influence was lost, and all her late

exertions were thrown away, by one evening's remissness in exciting his

fears of a young rival.

* * * * *

Melmond returned to Southampton the next morning with an air of deep and

settled melancholy. He had found the two brothers together, and the

candour of his appearance, the plainness of his declaration, the

openness with which he stated his situation, and his near relationship

to Mrs. Berlinton, procured him a courteous hearing; and he soon saw

that both the father and the uncle, though they desired time for

consideration and inquiry, were disposed to favour him. Mr. Tyrold,

though, to his acknowledged recent disappointment of fortune, he

attributed his address, had so little hope that any man at once amiable

and rich would present himself to his unfortunate Eugenia, that, when he

saw a gentleman well educated, well allied, of pleasing manners, and

with every external promise of a good and feeling character, modestly,

and with no professions but of esteem and respect, seek her of her

friends, he thought himself not even entitled to refuse him. He told

him, however, that he could conclude upon nothing in a matter of such

equal interest to himself and his wife, without her knowledge and

concurrence; and that during the time he demanded before he gave a final

answer, he required a forbearance of all intercourse, beyond that of a

common acquaintance. His first design was immediately to send for

Eugenia home; but the young man appeared so reasonable, so mild, so

unlike a fortune-hunter, that, constitutionally indulgent where he

apprehended nothing criminal, he contented himself with writing to the

same effect to Eugenia, fully satisfied of her scrupulous punctuality,

when once his will was known.

Melmond, though thus well received, returned back to Southampton with

any air rather than that of a bridegroom. The order, not to wait upon

Eugenia in private, was the only part of his task he performed with

satisfaction; for though a mind really virtuous made him wish to conquer

his repugnance to his future partner, he felt it could not be by

comparing her with Indiana.

Eugenia received the letter of her father, written in his own and her

uncle's name, with transport; and, to testify her grateful obedience,

resolved to name the impending transaction to no one, and even to

relinquish her visits to Mrs. Berlinton, and only to see Melmond when

accident brought him before her in public.

But Mrs. Mittin, through words casually dropt, or conversations not very

delicately overheard, soon gathered the particulars of her situation,

which happily furnished her with a new subject for a gossiping visit to

Miss Margland and Indiana. The first of these ladies received the news

with unconcern, rather pleased than otherwise, that the temptation of an

heiress should be removed from any rivalry with the charms of her fair

pupil; who, by no means, however, listened to the account with equal

indifference. The sight of Melmond at Southampton, with the circumstance

of his being brother to the Honourable Mrs. Berlinton, had awakened all

the pleasure with which she had first met his impassioned admiration;

and while she haughtily expected from every public exhibition, 'to bring

home hearts by dozens,' the secret point she had in view, was shewing

Melmond that her power over others was as mighty as it had been over

himself. She had not taken the trouble to ask with what end: what was

passed never afforded her an observation; what was to come never called

forth an idea. Occupied only by the present moment, things gone remained

upon her memory but as matters of fact, and all her expectations she

looked forward to but as matters of course. To lose, therefore, a

conquest she had thought the victim of her beauty for life, was a

surprise nearly incredible; to lose him to Eugenia an affront scarcely

supportable; and she waited but an opportunity to kill him with her

disdain. But Melmond, who dreaded nothing so much as an interview,

availed himself of the commands of Mr. Tyrold, in not going to the

lodgings of Eugenia, and lived absorbed in a melancholy retirement,

which books alone could a little alleviate.

The conclusion of the letter of Mr. Tyrold gave to Camilla as much pain

as every other part of it gave to Eugenia pleasure: it was an earnest

and parentally tender prayer, that the alliance with Melmond, should his

worth appear such as to authorise its taking place, might prove the

counterpart to the happiness so sweetly promised from that of her sister

with Edgar.

While Camilla sighed to consider how wide from the certainty with which

he mentioned it was such an event, she blushed that he should thus be

uninformed of her insecurity: but while a reconciliation was not more

her hope than her expectation with every rising sun, she could not

endure to break his repose with the knowledge of a suspense she thought

as disgraceful as it was unhappy. Yet her present scheme to accelerate

its termination, became difficult even of trial.

The obviously serious regard of Henry was a continual reproach to her;

and the undisguised approbation of his father was equally painful. Yet

she could now only escape them by turning to some other, and that other

was necessarily Lord Valhurst, whose close siege to her notice forced

off every assailant but himself. This the deluded Camilla thought an

expedient the most innoxious; and gave to him so much of her time, that

his susceptibility to the charms of youth and beauty was put to a trial

beyond his fortitude; and, in a very few days, notwithstanding their

disproportion in age, his embarrassed though large estates, and the

little or no fortune which she had in view, he determined to marry her:

for when a man of rank and riches resolves to propose himself to a woman

who has neither, he conceives his acceptance not a matter of doubt.

In any other society, his admiration of Camilla might easily, like what

he had already experienced and forgotten for thousands of her sex, have

escaped so grave or decided a tendency; but in Mrs. Berlinton he saw so

much of youth and beauty bestowed upon a man whom he knew to be his own

senior in age, that the idea of a handsome young wife was perpetually

present to him. He weighed, like all people who seek to entice

themselves to their own wishes, but one side of the question; and

risked, like all who succeed in such self-seduction, the inconvenience

of finding out the other side too late. He saw the attractions of his

fair kinswoman; but neglected to consider of how little avail they were

to her husband; he thought, with exultation of that husband's age, and

almost childishness; but forgot to take into the scales, that they had

obtained from his youthful choice only disgust and avoidance.

While he waited for some trinkets, which he had ordered from town, to

have ready for presenting with his proposals, Edgar only sought an

opportunity and courage to take his last farewell. Whenever Camilla was

so much engaged with others that it was impossible to approach her, he

thought himself capable of uttering an eternal adieu; but when, by any

opening, he saw where and how he might address her, his feet refused to

move, his tongue became parched, and his pleading heart seemed

exclaiming: O, not to-night! yet, yet, another day, ere Camilla is

parted with for ever!

But suddenly, soon after, Camilla ceased to appear. At the rooms, at the

plays, at the balls, and at the private assemblies, Edgar looked for her

in vain. Her old adulator, also, vanished from public places, while her

young admirer and his father hovered about in them as usual, but

spiritless, comfortless, and as if in the same search as himself.

CHAPTER XII

_Juvenile Calculations_

Mrs. Norfield, a lady whom circumstances had brought into some intimacy

with Mrs. Berlinton upon her marriage, had endeavoured, from the first

of her entrance into high life, to draw her into a love of play; not

with an idea of doing her any mischief, for she was no more her enemy

than her friend; but to answer her own purposes of having a Faro table

under her own direction. She was a woman of fashion, and as such

every-where received; but her fortune was small, and her passion for

gaming inordinate; and as there was not, at this time, one Faro table at

Southampton, whither she was ordered for her health, she was almost

wearied into a lethargy, till her reiterated intreaties prevailed, at

length, with Mrs. Berlinton to hold one at her own house.

The fatigue of life without view, the peril of talents without prudence,

and the satiety of pleasure without intermission, were already

dangerously assaulting the early independence and the moment of vacancy

and weariness was seized by Mrs. Norfield, to press the essay of a new

mode of amusement.

Mrs. Berlinton's house opened, failed not to be filled; and opened for a

Faro table, to be filled with a peculiar set. To game has,

unfortunately, always its attractions; to game with a perfect novice is

not what will render it less alluring; and to see that novice rich and

beautiful is still less likely to be repelling.

Mr. Berlinton, when he made this marriage, supposed he had engaged for

life a fair nurse to his infirmities; but when he saw her fixed

aversion, he had not spirit to cope with it; and when she had always an

excuse for a separation, he had not the sense to acquaint himself how

she passed her time in his absence. A natural imbecility of mind was now

nearly verging upon dotage, and as he rarely quitted his room but at

meal times, she made a point never to see him in any other part of the

day. Her antipathy rendered her obdurate, though her disposition was

gentle, and she had now left him at Tunbridge, to meet her aunt at

Southampton, with a knowledge he was too ill to follow her, and a

determination, upon various pretences, to stay away from him for some

months. The ill fate of such unequal alliances is almost daily

exemplified in life; and though few young brides of old bridegrooms fly

their mates thus openly and decidedly, their retainers have seldom much

cause to rejoice in superior happiness, since they are generally

regarded but as the gaolers of their young prey.

Moderation was the last praise to which Mrs. Berlinton had any claim;

what she entered upon through persecution, in an interval of mental

supineness, she was soon awake to as a pleasure, and next pursued as a

passion. Her beloved correspondent was neglected; her favourite authors

were set aside; her country rambles were given up; balls and the rooms

were forgotten; and Faro alone engrossed her faculties by day, and her

dreams during the short epoch she reserved for sleep at night. She lost,

as might be expected, as constantly as she played; but as money was not

what she naturally valued, she disdained to weigh that circumstance;

and so long as she had any to pay, resigned it with more grace than by

others it was won.

That Camilla was not caught by this ruinous fascination, was not simply

the effect of necessity. Had the state of her finances been as

flourishing as it was decayed, she would have been equally steady in

this forbearance: her reason was fair, though her feelings frequently

chased it from the field. She looked on, therefore, with safety, though

not wholly with indifference; she had too much fancy not to be amused by

the spirit of the business, and was too animated not to take part in the

successive hopes and fears of the several competitors; but though her

quick sensations prompted a readiness, like that of Mrs. Berlinton, to

enter warmly into all that was presented to her, the resemblance went no

further; what she was once convinced was wrong she was incapable of

practising.

Upon Gaming, the first feeling and the latest reflection are commonly

one; both point its hazards to be unnecessary, its purposes rapacious,

and its end desperate loss, or destructive gain; she not only,

therefore, held back; she took the liberty, upon the privilege of their

avowed friendship, to remonstrate against this dangerous pastime with

Mrs. Berlinton. But that lady, though eminently designed to be amiable,

had now contracted the fearful habit of giving way to every propensity;

and finding her native notions of happiness were blighted in the bud,

concluded that all which now remained for her was the indulgence of

every luxury. She heard with sweetness the expostulation of her young

friend; but she pursued her own course.

In a very few days, however, while the blush of shame dyed her beautiful

cheeks, she inquired if Camilla could lend her a little ready money.

A blush of no less unpleasant feelings overspread the face of her fair

guest, in being compelled to own she had none to lend; but she eagerly

promised to procure some from Mrs. Mittin, who had a note in her hand to

exchange for the payment of some small debts contracted at Tunbridge.

Mrs. Berlinton, gathering, from her confusion, how ill she was stored,

would not hear of applying to this resource, 'though I hate,' she cried,

'to be indebted to that odious old cousin, of whom I was obliged to

borrow last night.'

Glaring imprudence in others is a lesson even to the most unthinking;

Camilla, when she found that Mrs. Berlinton had lost every guinea she

could command, ventured to renew still more forcibly her exhortations

against the Faro table; but Mrs. Berlinton, notwithstanding she

possessed an excellent capacity, was so little fortified with any

practical tenets either of religion or morality, that where sentiment

did not take the part of what was right, she had no preservative against

what was wrong. The Faro table, therefore, was still opened; and Lord

Valhurst, by the sums he lent, obtained every privilege of intimacy in

the family, except that of being welcome.

Against this perilous mode of proceeding Camilla was not the only

warner. Mrs. Ulst saw with extreme repugnance the mode of life her niece

was pursuing, and reprimanded her with severe reproach; but her

influence was now lost; and Mrs. Berlinton, though she kindly attended

her, and sought to alleviate her sufferings, acted as if she were not in

existence.

It was now Mrs. Mittin gained the highest point of her ambition; Mrs.

Berlinton, tired of remonstrances she could not controvert, and would

not observe, was extremely relieved by finding a person who would sit

with her aunt, comply with her humours, hear her lamentations, subscribe

to her opinions, and beguile her of her rigid fretfulness by the

amusement of gossiping anecdotes.

Mrs. Mittin had begun life as the apprentice to a small country

milliner; but had rendered herself so useful to a sick elderly

gentlewoman, who lodged in the house, that she left her a legacy, which,

by sinking into an annuity, enabled her to quit her business, and set

up, in her own conception, for a gentlewoman herself; though with so

very small an income, that to sustain her new post, she was frequently

reduced to far greater dependence and hardships than she experienced in

her old one. She was good-humoured, yet laborious; gay, yet subservient;

poor, yet dissipated. To be useful, she would submit to any drudgery; to

become agreeable, devoted herself to any flattery. To please was her

incessant desire, and her rage for popularity included every rank and

class of society. The more eminent, of course, were her first objects,

but the same aim descended to the lowest. She would work, read, go of

errands, or cook a dinner; be a parasite, a spy, an attendant, a drudge;

keep a secret, or spread a report; incite a quarrel, or coax contending

parties into peace; invent any expedient, and execute any scheme ... all

with the pretext to oblige others, but all, in fact, for simple

egotism; as prevalent in her mind as in that of the more highly

ambitious, though meaner and less dangerous.

Camilla was much relieved when she found this officious person was no

longer retained solely upon her account; but still she could neither

obtain her bills, no answers ever arriving, nor the money for her twenty

pound note, Mrs. Mittin always evading to deliver it, and asserting she

was sure somebody would come in the stage the next day for the payment

she had promised; and when Camilla wanted cash for any of the very few

articles she now allowed herself to think indispensable, instead of

restoring it into her hands, she flew out herself to purchase the goods

that were required, and always brought them home with assurances they

were cheaper than the shopkeepers would let her have them for herself.

Camilla resisted all incitements to new dress and new ornaments, with a

fortitude which must not be judged by the aged, nor the retired, who

weighing only the frivolity of what she withstood, are not qualified to

appreciate the merit of this sort of resignation; the young, the gay,

the new in life, who know that, amongst minor calamities, none are more

alarming to the juvenile breast than the fear of not appearing initiated

in the reigning modes, can alone do justice to the present philosophy of

Camilla, in seeing that all she wore, by the quick changes of fashion,

seemed already out of date; in refusing to look at the perpetual

diversity of apparel daily brought, by various dress modellers, for the

approbation of Mrs. Berlinton, and in seeing that lady always newly,

brightly, and in a distinguished manner attired, yet appearing by her

side in exactly the same array that she had constantly worn at

Tunbridge. Nor was Camilla indifferent to this contrast; but she

submitted to it as the duty of her present involved situation, which

exacted from her every privation, in preference to bestowing upon any

new expence the only sum she could command towards clearing what was

past.

But, after a very short time, the little wardrobe exhibited a worse

quality than that of not keeping pace with the last devices of the

_ton_; it lost not merely its newness, but its delicacy. Alas! thought

she, how long, in the careful and rare wear of Etherington and Cleves,

all this would have served me; while here, in this daily use, a

fortnight is scarce passed, yet all is spoilt and destroyed. Ah! public

places are only for the rich!

Now, therefore, Mrs. Mittin was of serious utility; she failed not to

observe the declining state of her attire; and though she wondered at

the parsimony which so resolutely prohibited all orders for its renewal,

in a young lady she considered as so great an heiress, she was yet proud

to display her various powers of proving serviceable. She turned,

changed, rubbed, cleaned, and new made up all the several articles of

which her dress was composed, to so much advantage, and with such

striking effect, that for yet a few days more all seemed renewed, and by

the arts of some few alterations, her appearance was rather more than

less fashionable than upon her first arrival.

But this could not last long; and when all, again, was fading into a

state of decay, Mrs. Berlinton received an invitation for herself and

her fair guest, to a great ball and supper, given upon the occasion of a

young nobleman's coming of age, in which all the dancers, by agreement,

were to be habited in uniform.

This uniform was to be clear fine lawn, with lilac plumes and ornaments.

Camilla had now, with consuming regret, passed several days without one

sight of Edgar. This invitation, therefore, which was general to all the

company at Southampton, was, in its first sound, delicious; but became,

upon consideration, the reverse. Clear lawn and lilac plumes and

ornaments she had none; how to go she knew not; yet Edgar she was sure

would be there; how to stay away she knew less.

This was a severe moment to her courage; she felt it faltering, and

putting down the card of invitation, without the force of desiring Mrs.

Berlinton to make her excuse, repaired to her own room, terrified by the

preponderance of her wishes to a consent which she knew her situation

rendered unwarrantable.

There, however, though she gained time for reflection, she gathered not

the resolution she sought. The stay at Southampton, by the desire of

Lynmere, had been lengthened; yet only a week now remained, before she

must return to her father and her uncle ... but how return? separated

from Edgar? Edgar whom she still believed she had only to see again in

some more auspicious moment, to re-conquer and fix for life! But when

and where might that auspicious moment be looked for? not at Mrs.

Berlinton's; there he no more attempted to visit: not at the Rooms;

those now were decidedly relinquished, and all general invitations were

inadequate to draw Mrs. Berlinton from her new pursuit: where, then, was

this happy explanation to pass?

When our wishes can only be gratified with difficulty, we conclude, in

the ardour of combating their obstacle, that to lose them, is to lose

everything, to obtain them is to ensure all good. At this ball, and this

supper, Camilla painted Edgar completely restored to her; she was

certain he would dance with her; she was sure he would sit by no one

else during the repast; the many days since they had met would endear to

him every moment they could now spend together, and her active

imagination soon worked up scenes so important from this evening, that

she next persuaded her belief that all chance of reconciliation hung

wholly upon the meeting it offered.

Impelled by this notion, yet wavering, dissatisfied, and uncomfortable,

she summoned Mrs. Mittin, and entreated she would make such inquiries

concerning the value of the ball-dress uniform, as would enable her to

estimate its entire expence.

Her hours passed now in extreme disquietude; for while all her hopes

centred in the approaching festival, the estimate which was to determine

her power of enjoying it was by no means easy to procure. Mrs. Mittin,

though an adept in such matters, took more pleasure in the parade than

in the performance of her task; and always answered to her inquiries,

that it was impossible to speak so soon; that she must go to such

another shop first; that she must consult with such and such a person;

and that she must consider over more closely the orders given by Mrs.

Berlinton, which were to be her direction, though with the stipulation

of having materials much cheaper and more common.

At length, however, she burst into her room, one morning, before she was

dressed, saying: 'Now, my dear miss, I hope I shall make you happy;' and

displayed, upon the bed, a beautiful piece of fine lawn.

Camilla examined and admired it, asked what it was a yard, and how much

would suffice for the dress.

'Why, my dear, I'll answer for it there's enough for three whole

dresses; why it's a whole piece; and I dare say I can get a handkerchief

and an apron out of it into the bargain.'

'But I want neither handkerchief, nor apron, nor three dresses, Mrs.

Mittin; I shall take the smallest quantity that is possible, if I take

any at all.'

Mrs. Mittin said that the man would not cut it, and she must take the

whole, or none.

Camilla was amazed she could so far have misunderstood her as to bring

it upon such terms, and begged she would carry it back.

'Nay, if you don't take this, my dear, there's nothing in the shops that

comes near it for less than fifteen shillings a-yard; Mrs. Berlinton

gives eighteen for her's, and it don't look one bit to choose; and this,

if you take it all together, you may have for ten, for all its width,

for there's 30 yards, and the piece comes to but fifteen pound.'

Camilla protested she would not, at this time, pay ten shillings a-yard

for any gown in the world.

Mrs. Mittin, who had flattered herself that the handkerchief and apron,

at least, if not one of the gowns, would have fallen to her share, was

much discomposed by this unexpected declaration; and disappointed,

murmuring, and conceiving her the most avaricious of mortals, was forced

away; leaving Camilla in complete despondence of any power to effect her

wish with propriety.

Mrs. Mittin came back late, and with a look of dismay; the man of whom

she had had the muslin, who was a traveller, whom she had met at a

friend's, had not waited her return; and, as she had left the fifteen

pounds with him, for a pledge of the security of his goods, she supposed

he had made off, to get rid of the whole piece at once.

Camilla felt petrified. No possible pleasure or desire could urge her,

deliberately, to what she deemed an extravagance; yet here, in one

moment, she was despoiled of three parts of all she possessed, either

for her own use, or towards the restitution of her just debts with

others.

Observing her distress, though with more displeasure than pity, from

believing it founded in the most extraordinary covetousness, Mrs. Mittin

proposed measuring the piece in three, and disposing of the two gowns

she did not want to Mrs. Berlinton, or her sister and Miss Lynmere.

Camilla was a little revived; but the respite of difficulty was short;

upon opening the piece, it was found damaged; and after the first few

yards, which Mrs. Mittin had sedulously examined, not a breadth had

escaped some rent, fray, or mischief.

The ill being now irremediable, to make up the dress in the cheapest

manner possible was the only consolation that remained. Mrs. Mittin

knew a mantua-maker who, to oblige her, would undertake this for a very

small payment; and she promised to procure everything else that was

necessary for the merest trifle.

Determined, however, to risk nothing more in such hands, she now

positively demanded that the residue of the note should be restored to

her own keeping. Mrs. Mittin, though much affronted, honestly refunded

the five pounds. The little articles she had occasionally brought were

still unpaid for; but her passion for detaining the money was merely

with a view to give herself consequence, in boasting how and by whom she

was trusted, and now and then drawing out her purse, before those who

had less to produce; but wholly without any design of imposition or

fraud; all she could obtain by hints and address she conceived to be

fair booty; but further she went not even in thought.

Three days now only remained before this event-promising ball was to

take place, and within three after it, the Southampton expedition was to

close. Camilla scarce breathed from impatience for the important moment,

which was preceded by an invitation to all the company, to take a sail

on the Southampton water on the morning of the entertainment.

END OF THE FOURTH VOLUME.

VOLUME V

BOOK IX

CHAPTER I

_A Water Party_

The ball dress of Camilla was not yet ready, when she set out for the

amusement of the morning. Melmond, upon this occasion, was forced into

the excursion; his sister represented, so pathetically, the ungrateful

ill-breeding of sequestering himself from a company of which it must so

publicly be judged Eugenia would make one, with the impossibility of for

ever escaping the sight of Indiana, that he could not, in common

decency, any longer postpone the double meeting he almost equally

dreaded.

And this, with all that could aggravate its misery, from seeing the two

objects together, immediately occurred. Sir Hugh Tyrold's coach,

containing Miss Margland, Indiana, Eugenia, and Dr. Orkborne, was

arrived just before that of Mrs. Berlinton; and, the morning being very

fine, they had just alighted, to join the company assembling upon the

beach for the expedition. Miss Margland still continued to exact the

attendance of the Doctor, though his wry looks and sluggish pace always

proclaimed his ill will to the task. But Clermont, the only proper beau

for her parties, was completely unattainable. He had connected himself

with young Halder, and his associates, from whom, while he received

instructions relative to the stables and the dog-kennels, he returned,

with suitable edification, lessons on the culinary art.

Melmond, deeply distressed, besought his sister not to alight till the

last moment. She pitied him too sincerely not to comply; and, in a very

short time, she had herself an aggregate of almost all the gentlemen on

the beach before the coach.

Among these, the first to press forward were the two Westwyns, each

enraptured to again see Camilla; and the most successful in obtaining

notice was Lord Valhurst, with whom Camilla still thought it prudent,

however irksome, to discourse, rather than receive again the assiduities

of Henry: but her mind, far from them all, was hovering on the edge of

the shore, where Edgar was walking.

Edgar, for some time past, had joined the utmost uneasiness what conduct

to pursue with regard to the friends of Camilla, to the heart-rending

decision of parting from her for ever. He soon learnt the new and

dangerous manner in which Mrs. Berlinton spent her evenings, and the

idea that most naturally occurred to him, was imparting it to Mr.

Tyrold. But in what way could he address that gentleman, without first

knowing if Camilla had acquainted him with the step she had taken? He

felt too strongly the severe blow it would prove, not to wish softening

it with every palliation; and while these still lingering feelings awed

his proceedings, his servant learnt, from Molly Mill, that Melmond had

been favourably received at Cleves, as a suitor to Eugenia. Finding so

near an alliance likely to take place with the brother, he gave up his

plan of remonstrating against the sister, except in private counsel to

Camilla; for which, and for uttering his fearful adieu, he was now

waiting but to speak to her unobserved.

Still, however, with pain unabating he saw the eager approach to her of

Henry, with disgust that of Lord Valhurst, and with alarm the general

herd.

Lord Pervil, the young nobleman who deemed it worth while to be at the

expence of several hundred pounds, in order to let the world know how

old he was, now, with his mother, a widow lady, and some other

relations, came down in a superb new equipage, to the water-side. Mrs.

Berlinton could not be so singular, as not to join in the general crowd,

that flocked around them with congratulations; and all parties, in a few

minutes, were assembled on one spot.

Edgar, when he had spoken to the group to which the honours of the day

belonged, made up to Camilla, gravely enquired after her health; and

then placed himself as near to her as he was able, in the hope of

conferring with her when the company began to move.

Her spirits now rose, and her prospects re-opened to their wished

termination. All her regret was for Henry, who saw her present

avoidance, and bemoaned her long absence, with a sadness that reproached

and afflicted her.

A very fine yacht, and three large pleasure-boats, were in readiness for

this company, surrounded by various other vessels of all sorts and

conditions, which were filled with miscellaneous parties, who meant to

partake the same gales for their own diversion or curiosity. The invited

set was now summoned to the water, Lord Pervil and his relations leading

the way by a small boat to the yacht, to which Mrs. Berlinton and the

Cleves party were particularly selected guests.

Camilla, depending upon the assistance of Edgar, in passing through the

boat to the yacht, so obviously turned from Henry, that he lost all

courage for persevering in addressing her, and was even, though most

unwillingly, retiring from a vicinity in which he seemed palpably

obtrusive, had not his father insisted upon detaining him, whispering,

'Be of good heart, Hal! the girl will come round yet.'

Edgar kept equally near her, with a design that was the counterpart of

her own wish, of offering her his hand when it was her turn to enter the

boat; but they were both disappointed, the Peer, not waiting that

rotation, presented her his arm as soon as Lady Pervil had led the way.

There was no redress, though Camilla was as much provoked as either of

the young rivals.

Lord Valhurst did not long exult in his victory; the unsteadiness of the

boat made him rather want help for himself, than find force to bestow it

upon another, and, upon mounting at the helm to pass her on to the

yacht, he tottered, his foot slipt, and he must have sunk between the

two vessels, had not a waterman caught him up, and dragged him into the

yacht, with no further misfortune than a bruised shin, wet legs and

feet, and a deplorably rueful countenance, from mingled fright and

mortification.

Edgar, not wholly unsuspicious such an accident might happen, was

darting into the boat to snatch Camilla from its participation, when he

felt himself forcibly pulled back, and saw, at the same moment, Henry,

who had also started forward, but whom nothing had retarded, anticipate

his purpose, and aid her into the yacht.

Looking round to see by what, or by whom, he had so unaccountably been

stopt, he perceived old Mr. Westwyn, his forefinger upon his nose in

sign of silence and secrecy, grasping him by the coat.

'What is the humour of this, Sir?' cried he, indignantly.

Mr. Westwyn, still making his token for discretion, and bending forward

to speak in his ear, said, 'Do, there's a good soul, let my boy help

that young lady. Hal will be much obliged to you, I can tell you; and

he's a very good lad.'

The nature of Edgar was too candid to suffer his wrath to resist a

request so simple in sincerity; but deeply he sighed to find, by its

implication, that the passion of Henry was thus still fed with hopes.

The passing of other ladies, with their esquires, prevented him, who had

no lady he wished to conduct, from making his way yet into the yacht;

and the honest old gentleman, detained by the same reason, entered

promptly into the history of the present situation of his son with

regard to Camilla; relating, frankly, that he thought her the sweetest

girl in the world, except that she did not know her own mind; for she

had been so pleased with his son first of all, that he really thought he

should oblige her by making it a match: 'which I could not,' added he,

'have the heart to refuse to a girl that gave the boy such a good

character. You'd be surprised to know how she took to him! you may be

proud, says she to me, you may be proud of your son! which is what I

shall never forget; for though I loved Hal just the same before, I never

could tell but what it was only because he was my own. And I'm so afraid

of behaving like a blind old goose, that I often snub Hal, when he's no

more to blame than I am myself, for fear of his getting out of my hands,

and behaving like a certain young man he has been brought up with, and

who, I assure you, deserves to have his ears cropt ten times a day, for

one piece of impudence or other. I should not have been sorry if he'd

fallen into the water along with that old lord, whom I don't wish much

good to neither; for, between friends, it seems to me that it's he that

has put her out of conceit with my poor Hal: for all of a sudden, nobody

can tell why nor wherefore, she takes it into her head there's nothing

else worth listening to, but just his old compliments. And my poor Hal,

after thinking she had such a kindness for him, that he had nothing to

do but put on his best coat--for I told him I'd have none of his

new-fangled modes of affronting my worthy old friend, by doing to him

like a postillion, with a cropt head, and half a coat--after thinking

he'd only to ask his consent, for he'd got mine without ever a word, all

at once, without the least quarrel, or either I or Hal giving her the

least offence, she won't so much as let him speak to her; but turns off

to that old fellow that tumbled into the water there, and had near made

her slip in after, if it had not been for my son's stopping her, which

I sha'n't forget your kindness in letting him do; but what's more, she

won't speak to me neither! though all I want is to ask her the reason of

her behaviour! which I shall certainly do, if I can catch her any five

minutes away from that lord; for you'll never believe what good friends

we were, before she took so to him. We three, that is, she and I, and

Hal, used to speak to nobody else, scarce. Poor Hal thought he'd got it

all his own way. And I can't but own I thought as much myself; for there

was no knowing she'd hold herself so above us, all at once. I assure

you, if we don't bring her to, it will go pretty hard with us; for I

like her just as well as Hal does. I'd have made over to them the best

half of my income immediately.'

Edgar had never yet felt such serious displeasure against Camilla, as

seized him upon this artless narrative. To have trifled thus, and, as he

believed, most wantonly, with the feelings and peace of two amiable

persons, whether from the vanity of making a new conquest, or the

tyranny of persecuting an old one, shewed a love of power the most

unjustifiable, and a levity the most unpardonable. And when he

considered himself as exactly in the same suspensive embarrassment, as a

young man of little more than a fortnight's acquaintance, he felt

indignantly ashamed of so humiliating a rivalry, and a strong diminution

of regret at his present purpose.

Melmond, meanwhile, pressed by his sister, seconded by his own sense of

propriety, had forced himself to the Cleves' party; and, after bowing

civilly to Miss Margland, who courteously smiled upon one who she

imagined would become master of Cleves, and most profoundly to Indiana,

who coloured, but deigned not the smallest salutation in return, offered

his hand to Eugenia; but with a mind so absorbed, and steps so

uncertain, that he was unable to afford her any assistance; and her

lameness and helplessness made her so much require it, that she was in

danger of falling every moment; yet she felt in Paradise; she thought

him but enfeebled, as she was enfeebled herself, by a tender

sensibility; and danger, therefore, was not merely braved, it was dear,

it was precious to her.

Indiana now consoled her mortification, with the solace of believing a

retaliation at hand, that would overcome the otherwise indelible

disgrace of being superseded by Eugenia in a conquest. Full of her own

little scheme, she imperiously refused all offers of aid, and walked on

alone, till crossing the boat, she gave a shriek at every step, made

hazardous by her wilful rejection of assistance, and acted over again

the charm of terror, of which she well recollected the power upon a

former occasion.

These were sounds to vibrate but too surely to the heart of Melmond; he

turned involuntarily to look at her; her beauty had all its original

enchantment; and he snatched away his eyes. He led on her whom still

less he durst view; but another glance, thus surprised from him, shewed

Indiana unguarded, unprotected; his imagination painted her immediately

in a watery grave; and, seeing Eugenia safe, though not accommodated, he

rushed back to the boat, and with trembling respect implored her to

accept his aid.

Triumphant, now, she conceived herself in her turn, and looking at him

with haughty disdain, said, she chose to go alone; and when again he

conjured her not to risk her precious safety, added, 'You know you don't

care about it; so pray go to your Miss Eugenia Tyrold.'

Young Melmond, delicate, refined, and well bred, was precisely amongst

the first to feel, that a reply such as this must be classed amongst the

reverse of those three epithets--had it come from any mouth but that of

Indiana!--but love is deaf, as well as blind, to every defect of its

chosen object, during the season of passion: from her, therefore, this

answer, leaving unobserved the littleness and spleen which composed it,

retained but so much of meaning as belongs to announcing jealousy, and

in giving him that idea, filled him with sensations that almost tore him

asunder.

Urged by her pique, she contrived, and with real risk, to jump into the

yacht alone; though, if swayed by any less potent motive, she would

sooner have remained in the boat the whole day. But what is the strength

which may be put upon a par with inclination? and what the general

courage that partial enterprise will not exceed?

Melmond, who only to some amiable cause could attribute whatever flowed

from so beautiful an object, having once started the idea of jealousy,

could give its source only to love: the impure spring of envy entered

not into his suggestions. What, then, was his distraction, to think

himself so greatly miserable! to believe he was secretly favoured by

Indiana, at the instant of his first devoirs to another! Duty and

desire were equally urgent to be heard; he shrunk in utter despondence

from the two objects that seemed to personify both, and retreated, to

the utmost of his power, from the sight of either.

Miss Margland had more than echoed every scream of Indiana, though

nobody had seemed to hear her. Dr. Orkborne, the only beau she could

compel into her service, was missing; her eye and voice alike every

where demanded him in vain; he neither appeared to her view, nor

answered her indignant calls.--Nor, indeed, though she forced his

attendance, had she the most remote hope of inspiriting him to any

gallantry: but still he was a man, and she thought it a mark of

consequence to have one in her train; nor was it by any means nothing to

her to torment Dr. Orkborne with her reproaches. To dispositions highly

irascible, it is frequently more gratifying to have a subject of

complaint than of acknowledgment.

The ladies being now all accommodated upon the deck, sailing orders were

given, when an 'holla! holla!' making the company look round, Lynmere

desired to be admitted. All the party intended for the yacht were

already on board, and Lord Pervil told Mr. Lynmere he would find a very

good place in one of the pleasure boats: but he answered he was just

come from them, and preferred going in the yacht. Lord Pervil then only

hoped the ladies would excuse being a little crowded. Edgar had already

glided in, and Mr. Westwyn had openly declared, when asked to go to one

of the boats, that he always went where Hal went, be it where it might.

Clermont, now, elbowing his way into a group of gentlemen, and

addressing himself to young Halder, who was amongst them, said: 'Do you

know what they've got to eat here?'

'No.'

'What the deuce! have not you examined the larder? I have been looking

over the three boats,--there's nothing upon earth!--so I came to see if

I could do any better here.'

Halder vowed if there were nothing to eat, he would sooner jump over

board, and swim to shore, than go starving on.

'Starving?' said Mr. Westwyn, 'why I saw, myself, several baskets of

provisions taken into each of the boats.'

'Only ham and fowls,' answered Clermont, contemptuously.

'Only ham and fowls? why what would you have?'

'O the d----l,' answered he, making faces, 'not that antediluvian stuff!

any thing's better than ham and fowls.'

'Stilton cheese, for instance?' cried Mr. Westwyn, with a wrathful

sneer, that made Clermont, who could not endure, yet, for many reasons,

could not resent it, hastily decamp from his vicinity.

Mr. Westwyn, looking after the young epicure with an expression of angry

scorn, now took the arm of Edgar, whose evident interest in his first

communication encouraged further confidence, and said: 'That person that

you see walk that way just now, is a fellow that I have a prodigious

longing to give a good caning to. I can't say I like him; yet he's

nephew and heir to the very best man in the three kingdoms. However, I

heartily hope his uncle will disinherit him, for he's a poor fool as

well as a sorry fellow. I love to speak my mind plainly.'

Edgar was ill-disposed to conversation, and intent only upon Camilla,

who was now seated between Mrs. Berlinton and Eugenia, and occupied by

the fine prospects every where open to her; yet he explained the error

of Clermont's being heir, as well as nephew, to Sir Hugh; at which the

old gentleman, almost jumping with surprise and joy, said: 'Why, then

who's to pay all his debts at Leipsic? I can't say but what I'm glad to

hear this. I hope he'll be sent to prison, with all my heart, to teach

him a little better manners. For my old friend will never cure him; he

spoils young people prodigiously. I don't believe he'd so much as give

'em a horse-whipping, let 'em do what they would. That i'n't my way. Ask

Hal!'

Here he stopt, disturbed by a new sight, which displaced Clermont from

his thoughts.

Camilla, to whom the beauties of nature had mental, as well as visual

charms, from the blessings, as well as pleasure, she had from childhood

been instructed to consider as surrounding them, was so enchanted by the

delicious scenery every way courting her eyes, the transparent

brightness of the noble piece of water upon which she was sailing, the

richness and verdure of its banks, the still and gently gliding motion

of the vessel, the clearness of the heavens, and the serenity of the

air, that all her cares, for a while, would have been lost in admiring

contemplation, had she not painfully seen the eternal watching of Henry

for her notice, and gathered from the expression of his eyes, his

intended expostulation. The self-reproach with which she felt how ill

she could make her defence, joined to a sincere and generous wish to

spare him the humiliation of a rejection, made her seek so to engage

herself, as to prevent the possibility of his uttering two sentences

following. But as this was difficult with Eugenia, who was lost in

silent meditation upon her own happiness, or Mrs. Berlinton, who was

occupied in examining the beauty so fatal to the repose of her brother,

she had found such trouble in eluding him, that, when she saw Lord

Valhurst advance from the cabin, where he had been drying and refreshing

himself, she welcomed him as a resource, and, taking advantage of the

civility she owed him for what he had suffered in esquiring her, gave

him her sole attention; always persuaded his admiration was but a sort

of old fashioned politeness, equally without design in itself, or

subject for comment in others.

But what is so hard to judge as the human heart? The fairest observers

misconstrue all motives to action, where any received prepossession has

found an hypothesis. To Edgar this conduct appeared the most degrading

fondness for adulation, and to Mr. Westwyn a tyrannical caprice, meant

to mortify his son. 'I hope you saw that! I hope you saw that!' cried

he, 'for now I don't care a pin for her any longer! and if Hal is such a

mere fool as ever to think of her any more, I'll never see his face

again as long as I live. After looking askew at the poor boy all this

time, to turn about and make way for that nasty old fellow; as who

should say, I'll speak to nothing but a lord! is what I shall never

forgive; and I wish I had never seen the girl, nor Hal neither. I can't

say I like such ways. I can't abide 'em.'

A sigh that then escaped Edgar, would have told a more discerning

person, that he came in for his ample share in the same wish.

'And, after all,' continued he, 'being a lord is no such great feat that

ever I could learn. Hal might be a lord too, if he could get a title.

There is nothing required for it but what any man may have; nobody asks

after what he can do, or what he can say. If he's got a good head, it's

well; and if he has not, it's all one. And that's what you can't say of

such a likely young fellow as my son. You may see twenty for one that's

as well looking. Indeed, to my mind, I don't know that ever I saw a

prettier lad in my life. So she might do worse, I promise her, though

she has used my son so shabbily. I don't like her the better for it, I

assure her; and so you may tell her, if you please. I'm no great friend

to not speaking my mind.'

The fear of being too late for the evening's arrangements, made Lord

Pervil, after a two hours sail, give orders for veering about: the

ladies were advised to go into the cabin during this evolution, and

Camilla was amongst those who most readily complied, for the novelty of

viewing what she had not yet seen. But when, with the rest, she was

returning to the deck, Lord Valhurst, who had just descended, entreated

her to stop one moment.

Not at all conjecturing his reason, she knew not how to refuse, but

innocently begged him to speak quick, as she was in haste, not to lose

any of the beautiful landscapes they were passing.

'Ah what,' cried the enamoured peer, 'what in the world is beautiful in

any comparison with yourself? To me no possible object can have such

charms; and I have now no wish remaining but never to lose sight of it.'

Amazed beyond all measure, she stared at him a moment in silence, and

then, confirmed by his looks that he was serious, would have left the

cabin with precipitance: but, preventing her from passing; 'Charming

Miss Tyrold!' he cried, 'let the confession of my flame meet your

favour, and I will instantly make my proposals to your friends.'

To Camilla this offer appeared as little delicate, as its maker was

attractive; yet she thought herself indebted for its general purport,

and, as soon as her astonishment allowed her, gracefully thanked him for

the honour of his good opinion, but entreated him to make no application

to her friends, as it would not be in her power to concur in their

consent.

Concluding this to be modest shyness, he was beginning a passionate

protestation of the warmth of his regard, when the effusion was stopt by

the appearance of Edgar.

Little imagining so serious a scene to be passing as the few words he

now gathered gave him to understand, his perplexity at her not returning

with the other ladies, made him suggest this to be a favourable moment

to seize for following her himself, and demanding the sought, though

dreaded conference. But when he found that his lordship, instead of

making, as he had supposed, his usual fond, yet unmeaning compliments,

was pompously offering his hand, he precipitately retired.

No liveliness of temper had injured in Camilla the real modesty of her

character. A sense, therefore, of obligation for this partiality

accompanied its surprise, and was preparing her for repeating the

rejection with acknowledgments though with firmness, when the sight of

Edgar brought an entirely new train of feelings and ideas into her mind.

O! happy moment! thought she; he must have heard enough of what was

passed to know me, at least, to be disinterested! he must see, now, it

was himself, not his situation in life, I was so prompt in

accepting--and if again he manifests the same preference, I may receive

it with more frankness than ever, for he will see my whole heart,

sincerely, singly, inviolably his own!

Bewitched with this notion, she escaped from the peer, and ran up to the

deck, with a renovation of animal spirits, so high, so lively, and so

buoyant, that she scarce knew what she said or did, from the

uncontroulable gaiety, which made every idea dance to a happiness new

even to her happy mind. Whoever she looked at, she smiled upon; to

whatever was proposed, she assented: scarce could she restrain her voice

from involuntarily singing, or her feet from instinctively dancing.

Edgar, compared with what he now felt, believed that hitherto he had

been a stranger to what wonder meant. Is this, thought he, Camilla? Has

she wilfully fascinated this old man seriously to win him, and has she

won him but to triumph in the vanity of her conquest? How is her

delicacy perverted! what is become of her sensibility? Is this the

artless Camilla? modest as she was gay, docile as she was spirited,

gentle as she was intelligent? O how spoilt! how altered! how gone!

Camilla, little suspicious of this construction, thought it would be now

equally wrong to speak any more with either Henry or Lord Valhurst, and

talked with all others indiscriminately, changing her object with almost

every speech.

A moment's reflection would have told her, that quietness alone, in her

present situation, could do justice to the purity of her intentions: but

reflection is rarely the partner of happiness in the youthful breast; it

is commonly brought by sorrow, and flies at the first dawn of returning

joy.

Thus, while she dispensed to all around, with views the most innocent,

her gay and almost wild felicity, the very delight to which she owed her

animation, of believing she was evincing to Edgar with what singleness

she was his own, gave her the appearance, in his judgment, of a

finished, a vain, an all-accomplished coquette. The exaltation of her

ideas brightened her eyes into a vivacity almost dazzling, gave an

attraction to her smiles that was irresistible, the charm of fascination

to the sound of her voice, to her air a thousand nameless graces, and to

her manner and expression an enchantment.

Powers so captivating, now for the first time united with a facility of

intercourse, soon drew around her all the attendant admiring beaux.

No animal is more gregarious than a fashionable young man, who, whatever

may be his abilities to think, rarely decides, and still less frequently

acts for himself. He may wish, he may appreciate, internally with

justice and wisdom; but he only says, and only does, what some other man

of fashion, higher in vogue, or older in courage, has said or has done

before him.

The young Lord Pervil, the star of the present day, was now drawn into

the magic circle of Camilla; this was full sufficient to bring into it

every minor luminary of his constellation; and even the resplendent and

incomparable beauty of Indiana, even the soft and melting influence of

the expressively lovely Mrs. Berlinton, gave way to the superior

ascendance of that varied grace, and winning vivacity, which seemed

instinctively sharing with the beholders its own pleasure and animation.

To Edgar alone this gave her not new charms: he saw in her more of

beauty, but less of interest; the sentence dictated by Dr. Marchmont, as

the watch-word to his feelings, _were she mine_, recurred to him

incessantly; alas! he thought, with this dissipated delight in

admiration, what individual can make her happy? to the rational serenity

of domestic life, she is lost!

Again, as he viewed the thickening group before her, offering fresh and

fresh incense, which her occupied mind scarce perceived, though her

elevated spirits unconsciously encouraged, he internally exclaimed: 'O,

if her trusting father saw her thus! her father who, with all his tender

lenity, has not the blind indulgence of her uncle, how would he start!

how would his sense of fair propriety be revolted!--or if her

mother--her respectable mother, beheld thus changed, thus undignified,

thus open to all flattery and all flatterers, her no longer peerless

daughter--how would she blush! how would the tint of shame rob her

impressive countenance of its noble confidence!'

These thoughts were too agitating for observation; his eyes moistened

with sadness in associating to his disappointment that of her revered

and exemplary parents, and he retreated from her sight till the moment

of landing; when with sudden desperation, melancholy yet determined, he

told himself he would no longer be withheld from fulfilling his purpose.

He made way, then, to the group, though with unsteady steps; his eye

pierced through to Camilla; she caught and fixt it. He felt cold; but

still advanced. She saw the change, but did not understand it. He

offered her his hand before Lady Pervil arose to lead the way, lest some

competitor should seize it; she accepted it, rather surprized by such

sudden promptness, though encouraged by it to a still further dependance

upon her revived and sanguine expectations.

Yet deeper sunk this flattering illusion, when she found his whole frame

was shaking, and saw his complexion every moment varying. She continued,

though in a less disengaged manner, her sprightly discourse with the

group; for he uttered not a word. Content that he had secured her hand,

he waited an opportunity less public.

Lady Pervil, who possessed that true politeness of a well-bred woman of

rank, who knows herself never so much respected as when she lays aside

mere heraldic claims to superiority, would not quit the yacht of which

she did the honours, till every other lady was conducted to the shore.

Edgar had else purposed to have detained Camilla in the vessel a moment

later than her party, to hear the very few words it was his intention to

speak. Frustrated of this design, he led her away with the rest, still

totally silent, till her feet touched the beach: she was then, with

seeming carelessness, withdrawing her hand, to trip off to Mrs.

Berlinton; but Edgar, suddenly grasping it, tremulously said: 'Will it

be too much presumption--in a rejected man--to beg the honour of three

minutes conference with Miss Tyrold, before she joins her party?'

A voice piercing from the deep could not have caused in Camilla a more

immediate revulsion of ideas; but she was silent, in her turn, and he

led her along the beach, while Mrs. Berlinton, attended by a train of

beaux, went to her carriage, where, thus engaged, she contentedly

waited.

'Do not fear,' he resumed, when they had passed the crowd, 'do not fear

to listen to me, though, once more, I venture to obtrude upon you some

advice; let it not displease you; it is in the spirit of the purest good

will; it is singly, solely, and disinterestedly as a friend.'

Camilla was now all emotion; pale she turned, but Edgar did not look at

her; and she strove to thank him in a common manner, and to appear cool

and unmoved.

'My opinion, my fears rather, concerning Mrs. Berlinton, as I find she

hopes soon for a near connexion with your family, will henceforth remain

buried in my own breast: yet, should you, to any use hereafter remember

them, I shall rejoice: though should nothing ever recur to remind you of

them, I shall rejoice still more. Nor will I again torment you about

that very underbred woman who inhabits the same house, and who every

where boasts an intimacy with its two ladies, that is heard with general

astonishment: nor yet upon another, and far more important topic, will I

now touch,--the present evening recreation at Mrs. Berlinton's. I know

you are merely a spectatress, and I will not alarm your friends, nor

dwell myself, upon collateral mischiefs, or eventual dangers, from a

business that in three days will end, by your restoration to the most

respectable of all protections. All that, now, I mean to enter upon, all

that, now, I wish to enforce, a few words will comprise, and those words

will be my--'

He would have said _my last_ but his breath failed him; he stopt; he

wanted her to seize his meaning unpronounced; and, though it came to her

as a thunderbolt from heaven, its very horror helped her; she divined

what he could not utter, by feeling what she could not hear.

'Few, indeed,' cried he, in broken accents, 'must be these final words!

but how can I set out upon my so long procrastinated tour, with an idea

that you are not in perfect safety, yet without attempting to point out

to you your danger? And yet,--that you should be surrounded by admirers

can create no wonder;--that you should feel your power without

displeasure, is equally natural;--I scarcely know, therefore, what I

would urge--yet perhaps, untold, you may conceive what struggles in my

breast, and do justice to the conflict between friendship and respect,

where one prompts a freedom, which the other [trembles] to execute. I

need not, I think, say, that to offend you is nearly the only thing that

could aggravate the affliction of this parting.'--

Camilla turned aside from him; but not to weep; her spirit was now

re-wakened by resentment, that he could thus propose a separation,

without enquiring if she persisted to desire it.

'I tire you?' resumed he, mournfully; 'yet can you be angry that a

little I linger? Farewell, however--the grave, when it closes in upon me

can alone end my prayers for your felicity! I commit wholly to you my

character and my conduct, with regard to your most honoured father, whom

I beseech and conjure you to assure of my eternal gratitude and

affection. But I am uncertain of your wishes; I will, therefore, depart

without seeing him. When I return to this country, all will be

forgotten--or remembered only--' _by me_, he meant to say, but he

checked himself, and, with forced composure, went on:

'That I travel not with any view of pleasure, you, who know what I

leave--how I prize what I lose,--and how lately I thought all I most

coveted mine for ever, will easily believe. But if earthly bliss is the

lot of few, what right had I to expect being so selected? Severe as is

this moment, with blessings, not with murmurs, I quit you! blessings

which my life, could it be useful to you, should consecrate. If you were

persuaded our dispositions would not assimilate; if mine appeared to you

too rigorous, too ungenial, your timely precaution has spared more

misery than it has inflicted. How could I have borne the light, when it

had shewn me Camilla unhappy--yet Camilla my own--?'

His struggle here grew vain, his voice faltered; the resentment of

Camilla forsook her; she raised her head, and was turning to him her

softened countenance, and filling eyes, when she saw Melmond, and a

party of gentlemen, fast approaching her from Mrs. Berlinton. Edgar saw

them too, and cutting short all he meant to have added, kissed, without

knowing what he did, the lace of her cloak, and ejaculating, 'Be Heaven

your guard, and happiness your portion!' left her hand to that of

Melmond, which was held out to her, and slightly bowing to the whole

party, walked slowly, and frequently looking back, away: while Camilla,

nearly blinded now by tears that would no longer be restrained, kept her

eyes fixedly upon the earth, and was drawn, more dead than alive, by

Melmond to the coach.

CHAPTER II

_Touches of Wit and Humour_

The suddenness of this blow to Camilla, at the moment when her

expectations from Edgar were wound up to the summit of all she desired,

would have stupefied her into a consternation beyond even affliction,

had not the mildness of his farewell, the kindness of his prayers, and

the friendship of his counsels, joined to the generosity of leaving

wholly to herself the account of their separation, subdued all the pride

that sought to stifle her tenderness, and penetrated her with an

admiration which left not one particle of censure to diminish her

regret.

Melmond and his sister, always open to distress, and susceptible to

pity, saw with true concern this melancholy change, and concluded that

Mandlebert had communicated some painful intelligence.

She went straight to her own room, with a sign of supplication that Mrs.

Berlinton would not follow; and turning quick from Mrs. Mittin, who met

her at the street door.

Mrs. Berlinton yielded; but Mrs. Mittin was not easily rebuffed. She was

loaded with lilac plumes, ribbands, and gauzes, and Camilla saw her bed

completely covered with her new ball dress.

This sight was, at first, an aggravation of her agony, by appearing to

her as superfluous as it was expensive: but wherever hope could find an

aperture to creep in at, it was sure of a welcome from Camilla. Edgar

was undoubtedly invited to the ball; why should he not be there? he had

taken leave of her, indeed, and he certainly proposed going abroad; but

could a mere meeting once more, be so repugnant as not to be endured.

The answer to this question was favourable to her wishes, for by her

wishes it was framed: and the next play of her fertile and quick

reviving imagination, described the meeting that would ensue, the

accidents that would bring them into the same set, the circumstances

that would draw them again into conversation, and the sincerity with

which she would do justice to her unalterable esteem, by assuring him

how injurious to it were his surmises that she thought him rigorous,

austere, or in any single instance to blame.

These hopes somewhat appeased, though their uncertainty could not banish

her terrors, and she was able to appear at dinner tolerably composed.

Another affair, immediately after, superseded them, for the present, by

more urgent difficulties.

Soon after her arrival at Southampton, a poor woman, who washed for her,

made a petition in behalf of her brother, a petty shop-keeper, who, by

various common, yet pitiable circumstances of unmerited ill success in

business, was unable to give either money or security to the wholesale

dealers, for the renewal of his exhausted stock in trade; though the

present full season, made it rational to suppose, that, if he had his

usual commodities, he might retrieve his credit, save himself from

bankruptcy, and his children from beggary. These last, which were five

in number, were all, upon various pretences, brought to Camilla, whose

pity they excited by the innocence with which they seemed ignorant of

requiring it; and who received them with smiles and encouragement,

however frivolous their errands, and frequent their interruptions. But

the goods which their father wanted to lay in, to revive his trade,

demanded full thirty pounds, which, Camilla declared, were as absolutely

out of her power to give as thirty thousand, though she promised to

plead to Sir Hugh for the sum, upon her return to Cleves, and was

prevailed with to grant her name to this promise for the wholesale

dealers. These would trust, however, to no verbal security; and Mrs.

Mittin, who from collateral reasons was completely a friend of the poor

man, offered to be bound for him herself, though thirty pounds were

nearly her year's income, provided Camilla would sign a paper, by which

she would engage _upon her honour_, to indemnify her of any loss she

might eventually sustain by this agreement, as soon as she was of age,

or should find it in her power before that time.

The seriousness of this clause, made Camilla refuse the responsibility,

protesting she should have no added means in consequence of being of

age. But Mrs. Mittin assured Higden, the poor man, as she assured all

others, that she was heiress to immense wealth, for she had had it from

one that had it from her own brother's own mouth; and that though she

could not find out why she was so shy of owning it, she supposed it was

only from the fear of being imposed upon.

The steadiness of Camilla, however, could not withstand her compassion,

when the washerwoman brought the poor children to beg for their father;

and, certain of her uncle's bounty, she would have run a far more

palpable risk, sooner than have assumed the force to send them weeping

away.

The stores were then delivered; and all the family poured forth their

thanks.

But this day, in quitting the dining parlour, she was stopt in the hall

by Higden, who, in unfeigned agonies, related, that some flasks of oil,

in a small hamper, which were amongst the miscellaneous articles of his

just collected stores, had, by some cruel accident, been crushed, and

their contents, finding their way into all the other packages, had

stained or destroyed them.