Camilla, from the instant she had perceived Edgar, had been in the utmost emotion, from doubt if his journey were to seek a reconciliation, or only to return her letters, and take a lasting farewell. Her first feeling at his sight urged her to retire: but something of a softer nature speedily interfered, representing, if now he should join her, what suffering might mutually be saved by an immediate conference. She kept, therefore, her seat, looking steadily straight down the water, and denying herself one moment's glance at anything, or person, upon the beach: little imagining she ingrossed, herself, the attention of all who paraded it. But, when the insinuations of the flippant perfumer had once made her looked at, her beauty, her apparently unprotected situation, and the account of the wager, seemed to render her an object to be stared at without scruple.
Mrs. Mittin saw how much they were observed, but Camilla, unheeding her remarks, listened only to hear if any footsteps approached; but when, at last, some struck her ears, they were accompanied by an unknown voice, so loud and clamorously jovial, that, disturbed, she looked round ... and saw the door violently flung open, and three persons, dressed like gentlemen, force their way into the small dwelling place.
Mr. Halder, the leader of this triumvirate, was the particular patron of Girt, the young perfumer; and, though his superior in birth and riches, was scarcely upon a par with him, from wilful neglect, in education; and undoubtedly beneath him in decency and conduct, notwithstanding young Girt piqued himself far less upon such sentimental qualifications, than upon his skill in cosmetics, and had less respect for unadulterated morals, than unadulterated powder.
The second who entered, was, in every particular, still less defensible: he was a peer of the realm; he had a daughter married, and his age entitled him to be the grandfather of young Halder. In point of fortune, speculatists deemed them equal; for though the estate of Halder was as yet unincumbered with the mortgages that hung upon that of Lord Valhurst, they computed, with great exactness, the term of its superiority, since already he had inlisted in the jockey meetings, and belonged to the gaming clubs.
The third, a young man of a serious, but pleasing demeanour, was rather an attendant than a partner in this intrusion. He was the only one of the whole party to whom the countenance of Camilla had announced innocence; and when Halder, instigated by the assertions of the facetious Girt, proposed the present measure, and Lord Valhurst, caught by the youthful beauty of the fair subject of discussion, acceded, this single champion stood forth, and modestly, yet firmly, declaring his opinion they were mistaken, accompanied them with a view to protect her, if he himself were right.
Boisterously entering, Halder addressed at once to Camilla, such unceremonious praise of her beauty, that, affrighted and offended, she hastily seized the arm of Mrs. Mittin, and, in a voice of alarm, though with an air of command that admitted no doubt of her seriousness, and no appeal from her resolution, said, 'Let us go home, Mrs. Mittin, immediately.'
Simple as were these words, their manner had an effect upon Halder to awe and distance him. Beauty, in the garb of virtue, is rather formidable than attractive to those who are natively unenlightened, as well as habitually degenerate: though, over such as have ever known better sentiments, it frequently retains its primeval power, even in their darkest declension of depravity.
But while Halder, repulsed, stood back, and the young champion, with an air the most respectful, made way for her to pass; Lord Valhurst, shutting the door, planted himself against it.
Seeing terror now take possession of every feature of her face, her determined protector called out: 'Make way, my Lord, I beg!' and offered her his hand. But Camilla, equally frightened at them all, shrunk appalled from his assistance, and turned towards the window, with an intention of demanding help from Edgar, whom she supposed still on the beach; but the peer, slowly moving from the door, said he was the last to mean to disconcert the young lady, and only wished to stop her till he could call for his carriage, that he might see her safe wherever she wished to go.
Camilla had no doubt of the sincerity of this proposal, but would accept no aid from a stranger, even though an old man, while she hoped to obtain that of Edgar. Edgar, however, she saw not, and fear is generally precipitate: she concluded him gone; concluded herself deserted, and, from knowing neither, equally fearing both the young men, inclined towards Lord Valhurst; who, with delighted surprise, was going to take her under his care, when Edgar rushed forward.
The pleasure that darted into her eyes announced his welcome. Halder, from his reception, thought the enigma of his own ill success solved; the other youth, supposing him her brother, no longer sought to interfere; but Lord Valhurst exhibited signs of such irrepressible mortification, that inexperience itself could not mistake the dishonourable views of his offered services, since, to see her in safety, was so evidently not their purpose. Camilla, looking at him with the horror he so justly excited, gave her hand to Edgar, who had instantly claimed it, and, without one word being uttered by either, hastily walked away with him, nimbly accompanied by Mrs. Mittin.
The young man, whose own mind was sufficiently pure to make him give easy credit to the purity of another, was shocked at his undeserved implication in so gross an attack, and at his failure of manifesting the laudable motive which had made him one of the triumvirate; and, looking after her with mingled admiration and concern, 'Indeed, gentlemen,' he cried, 'you have been much to blame. You have affronted a young lady who carries in the whole of her appearance the marks of meriting respect.'
The sensibility of Lord Valhurst was not of sufficient magnitude to separate into two courses: the little he possessed was already occupied by his disappointment, in losing the beautiful prey he believed just falling into his hands, and he had no emotion, therefore, to bestow upon his young reprover. But Halder, who, to want of feeling, added want of sense, roared out, with rude raillery, a gross, which he thought witty attack, both of the defender and the defended.
The young man, with the proud probity of unhackneyed sentiment, made a vindication of his uncorrupt intentions; which produced but louder mirth, and coarser incredulity. The contest, however, was wholly unequal; one had nerves of the most irritable delicacy; the other had never yet, by any sensation, nor any accident, been admonished that nerves made any part of the human composition: in proportion, therefore, as one became more offended, the other grew more callous, till the chivalry of indignant honour, casting prudence, safety, and forbearance away, dictated a hasty challenge, which was accepted with a hoarse laugh of brutal senselessness of danger. Courage is of another description. It risks life with heroism; but it is only to preserve or pursue something, without which the charm of life were dissolved: it meets death with steadiness; but it prepares for immortality with reverence and emotion.
Edgar and Camilla continued their walk in a silence painful to both, but which neither knew how first to break; each wished with earnestness an opening to communication and confidence; but, mutually shocked by the recent adventure, Edgar waited the absence of Mrs. Mittin, to point out the impropriety and insufficiency of such a guard; and Camilla, still aghast with terror, had no power of any sort to begin a discourse.
Their taciturnity, if not well supplied, was, at least, well contrasted by the volubility of Mrs. Mittin, which, as in the bathing house it had been incessant, in declaring, to the three intruders, that both she and the other young lady were persons of honour, was now no less unremitting in boasting how well she had checked and kept them in order.
The horror of the attack she had just escaped became soon but a secondary suffering to Camilla, though, at the moment, it had impressed her more terribly than any actual event of her life, or any scene her creative imagination had ever painted; yet, however dreadful, it was now past; but who could tell the end of what remained? the mute distance of Edgar, her uncertainty of his intentions, her suspicions of his wished secession, the severe task she thought necessary to perform of giving him his liberty, with the anguish of a total inability to judge whether such a step would recall his tenderness, or precipitate his retreat, were suggestions which quickly succeeded, and, in a very short time, wholly domineered over every other.
When they arrived at the house, Edgar demanded if he might hope for the honour of being presented, as a friend of the family, to Mrs. Berlinton.
Reviving, though embarrassed, she looked assent, and went forward to inquire if Mrs. Berlinton were come home.
The servant answered no; but delivered her a letter from that lady; she took it with a look of distress whether or not to invite Edgar to enter, which the, at this period, welcome officiousness of Mrs. Mittin relieved, by saying, 'Come, let us all come in, and make the parlour a little comfortable against Mrs. Berlinton comes home; for, I dare say, there's nothing as it should be. These lodging-houses always want a heap of things one never thinks of before hand.'
They then all three entered, and Mrs. Mittin, who saw, she said, a thousand ways by which she might serve and oblige Mrs. Berlinton, by various suggestions, and even directions, which she hazarded against her return, busied herself to arrange the two parlours to her satisfaction; and, then, went up stairs, to settle, also, all there; making abundant apologies for leaving them, and assuring them she would be back again as soon as she possibly could get all in order.
Her departure was a moment of extreme confusion to Camilla, who considered it as an invitation to her great scheme of rejection, but who stammered something upon every other subject, to keep that off. She looked at her letter, wondered what it could contain, could not imagine why Mrs. Berlinton should write when they must so soon meet; and spent in conjectures upon its contents the time which Edgar besought her to bestow upon their perusal.
Nothing gives so much strength to an adversary as the view of timidity in his opponent. Edgar grew presently composed, and felt equal to his purposed expostulation.
'You decline reading your letter till I am gone?' cried he; 'I must, therefore, hasten away. Yet, before I go, I earnestly wish once more to take upon me the office formerly allowed me, and to represent, with simple sincerity, my apprehensions upon what I have observed this morning.'
The beginning of this speech had made Camilla break the seal of her letter; but its conclusion agitated her too much for reading it.
'Is this silence,' said he, trying to smile, 'to repress me as arrogant, ... or to disregard me as impertinent?'
'Neither!' she answered, forcing herself to look towards him with cheerfulness; 'it is merely ... attention.'
'You are very good, and I will try to be brief, that I may put your patience to no longer proof than I can avoid. You know, already, all I can urge concerning Mrs. Berlinton; how little I wonder at the promptness of your admiration; yet how greatly I fear for the permanence of your esteem. In putting yourself under her immediate and sole protection, you have shewn me the complete dissonance of our judgments upon this subject; but I do not forget that, though you had the goodness to hear me, you had the right to decide for yourself. Trust indeed, even against warning, is so far more amiable than suspicion, that it must always, even though it prove unfortunate, call for praise rather than censure.'
The confusion of Camilla was now converted into self-reproach. What she thought coldness, she had resented; what appeared to her to be haughtiness, she had resisted; but truth, in the form of gentleness, brought her instantly to reason, and reason could only resume its empire, to represent as rash and imprudent an expedition so repugnant, in its circumstances, to the wishes and opinions of the person whose approbation was most essential to her happiness. Edgar had paused; and her every impulse led to a candid recognition of what she felt to be wrong; but her precarious situation with him, the report of his intended flight by Jacob, the letters still detained of Sir Sedley Clarendel, and no explanation demanded, by which she could gather if his plighted honour were not now his only tie with her, curbed her design, depressed her courage, and, silently, she let him proceed.
'Upon this subject, therefore, I must say no more, except to hint a wish, that the apprehensions which first induced me to name it may, unbidden, occur as timely heralds to exertion, should any untoward circumstances point to danger, alarm, or impropriety.'
The new, but strong friendship of Camilla was alarmed for its delicacy by these words. The diffidence she felt, from conscious error, for herself, extended not to Mrs. Berlinton, whom, since she found guiltless, she believed to be blameless. She broke forth, therefore, into a warm eulogy, which her agitation rendered eloquent, while her own mind and spirits were relieved and revived, by this flight from her mortified self, to the friend she thought deserving her most fervent justification.
Edgar listened attentively, and his eyes, though they expressed much of serious concern, shewed also an irrepressible admiration of an enthusiasm so ardent for a female friend of so much beauty.
'May she always merit this generous warmth!' cried he; 'which must have excited my best wishes for her welfare, even if I had been insensible to her own claims upon every man of feeling. But I had meant, at this time, to confine my ungrateful annotations to another ... to the person who had just quitted the room.'
'You do not mean to name her with Mrs. Berlinton? to imagine it possible I can have for her any similar regard? or any, indeed, at all, but such common good-will as all sorts and classes of people are entitled to, who are well meaning?'
'Here, at least, then,' said Edgar, with a sigh half suppressed, 'our opinions may be consonant. No; I designed no such disgraceful parallel for your elegant favourite. My whole intention is to remonstrate ... can you pardon so plain a word?... against your appearing in public with a person so ill adapted to insure you the respect that is so every way your due.'
'I had not the smallest idea, believe me, of appearing in public. I merely walked out to see the town, and to beguile, in a stroll, time, which, in this person's society, hung heavy upon me at home, in the absence of Mrs. Berlinton.'
The concise simplicity of this innocent account, banished, in a moment, all severity of judgment; and Edgar, expressively thanking her, rose, and was approaching her, though scarcely knowing with what purpose, when Mrs. Mittin burst into the room, exclaiming: 'Well, my dear, you'll never guess how many things I have done since I left you. In the first place, there was never a wash-ball; in the next place, not a napkin nor a towel was in its proper place; then the tea-things were forgot; and as to spoons, not one could I find. And now, I've a mind to go myself to a shop I took good notice of, and get her a little almond powder for her nice white hands; which, I dare say, will please her. I've thought of a hundred things at least. I dare say I shall quite win her heart. And I'm sure of my money again, if I lay out never so much. And I don't know what I would not do for such a good lady.'
During this harangue, Camilla, ashamed of her want of resolution, secretly vowed, that, if again left alone with him, she would not lose a moment in restoring him his liberty, that with dignity she might once more receive, or with fortitude for ever resign it. She thought herself, at this moment, capable of either; but she had only thought it, since his softened look and air had made her believe she had nothing to fear from the alternative.
Mrs. Mittin soon went, though her continued and unmeaning chattery made the short term of her stay appear long.
Each eager upon their own plan, both then involuntarily arose.
Camilla spoke first. 'I have something,' she cried, 'to say, ...' but her voice became so husky, the inarticulate sounds died away unheard, and blushing at so feeble an opening, she strove, under the auspices of a cough, to disguise that she had spoken at all, for the purpose of beginning, in a more striking manner, again.
This succeeded with Edgar at this moment, for he had heard her voice, not her words: he began, therefore, himself. 'This good lady,' he said, 'seems bit with the rage of obliging, though not, I think, so heroically, as much to injure her interest. But surely she flatters herself with somewhat too high a recompence? The heart of Mrs. Berlinton is not, I fancy, framed for such a conquerer. But how, at the same time, is it possible conversation such as this should be heard under her roof? And how can it have come to pass that such a person....'
'Talk of her,' interrupted Camilla, recovering her breath, 'some other time. Let me now inquire ... have you burnt ... I hope so!... those foolish ... letters ... I put into your hands?...'
The countenance of Edgar was instantly overclouded. The mention of those letters brought fresh to his heart the bitterest, the most excruciating and intolerable pang it had ever experienced; it brought Camilla to his view no longer artless, pure, and single-minded, but engaged to, or trifling with, one man, while seriously accepting another. 'No, madam,' he solemnly said, 'I have not presumed so far. Their answers are not likely to meet with so violent a death, and it seemed to me that one part of the correspondence should be preserved for the elucidation of the other.'
Camilla felt stung by this reply, and tremulously answered, 'Give me them back, then, if you please, and I will take care to see them all demolished together, in the same flames. Meanwhile....'
'Are you sure,' interrupted Edgar, 'such a conflagration will be permitted? Does the man live who would have the philosophy ... the insensibility I must rather style it—ever to resign, after once possessing, marks so distinguishing of esteem? O, Camilla! I, at least, could not be that man!'
Cut to the soul by this question, which, though softened by the last phrase, she deemed severely cruel, she hastily exclaimed: 'Philosophy I have no right to speak of ... but as to insensibility ... who is the man that ever more can surprise me by its display? Let me take, however, this opportunity....'
A footman, opening the door, said, his lady had sent to beg an answer to her letter.
Camilla, in whom anger was momentary, but the love of justice permanent, rejoiced at an interruption which prevented her from speaking, with pique and displeasure, a sentence that must lose all its purpose if not uttered with mildness. She would write, she said, immediately; and, bidding the man get her pen and ink, went to the window to read her letter; with a formal bow of apology to Edgar as she passed him.
'I have made you angry?' cried he, when the man was gone; 'and I hate myself to have caused you a moment's pain. But you must feel for me, Camilla, in the wound you have inflicted! you know not the disorder of mind produced by a sudden, unlooked-for transition from felicity to perplexity, ... from serenity to misery!...'
Camilla felt touched, yet continued reading, or rather rapidly repeating to herself the words of her letter, without comprehending, or even seeking to comprehend, the meaning of one sentence.
He found himself quite unequal to enduring her displeasure; his own, all his cautions, all Dr. Marchmont's advice, were forgotten; and tenderly following her, 'Have I offended,' he cried, 'past forgiveness? Is Camilla immoveable? and is the journey from which I fondly hoped to date the renewal of every hope, the termination of every doubt, the period of all suffering and sorrow....'
He stopt abruptly, from the entrance of the servant with pen and ink, and the interruption was critical: it called him to his self-command: he stammered out that he would not impede her writing; and, though in palpable confusion, took his leave: yet, at the street-door, he gave a ticket with his name, to the servant who attended him, for Mrs. Berlinton; and, with his best respects, desired she might be told he should do himself the honour to endeavour to see her in the evening.
The recollection of Edgar came too late to his aid to answer its intended purpose. The tender avowal which had escaped him to Camilla, of the view of his journey, had first with astonishment struck her ear, and next with quick enchantment vibrated to her heart, which again it speedily taught to beat with its pristine vivacity; and joy, spirit, and confidence expelled in a breath all guests but themselves.
Camilla was again called upon for her note, before she had read the letter it was to answer; but relieved now from the pressure of her own terrifying apprehensions, she gave it complete and willing attention.
It contained four sides of paper, closely yet elegantly written in the language of romantic sentiment. Mrs. Berlinton said she had spent, as yet, only a few minutes with her aunt; but they had been awfully important; and since she had exacted from her a promise to stay the whole day, she could not deny her disappointed friendship the transient solace of a paper conversation, to sooth the lingering interval of this unexpected absence. 'My soul pines to unburden the weight of its sorrows into thy sympathising bosom, my gentlest friend; but oh! there let them not sojourn! receive but to lighten, listen but to commiserate, and then, far, far thence dismiss them, retaining but the remembrance thou hast dismissed them with consolation.' She then bewailed the time lost to soft communication and confidence, in their journey, from the presence of others; for though one was a brother she so truly loved, she found, notwithstanding the tenderness of his nature, he had the prejudices of a man upon man's prerogatives, and her woes called for soothing not arguments; and the other, she briefly added, was but an accidental passenger. ''Tis in thee only, O my beauteous friend! I would trust the sad murmurs of my irreversible and miserable destiny, of which I have learnt but this moment the cruel and desperate secret cause.' She reserved, however, the discovery for their meeting, and called upon her pity for her unfortunate brother, as deeply involved in his future views, as she in her past, by this mystery: 'And have I written this much,' she burst forth, 'without speaking of the cherished correspondent whom so often I have described to thee? Ah! believe me not faithless to that partner of my chosen esteem, that noble, that resistless possessor of my purest friendship! No, charming Camilla, think not so degradingly of her whom fate, in its sole pitying interval, has cast into thy arms.' Two pages then ensued with this exclusive encomium, painting him chief in every virtue, and master of every grace. She next expressed her earnestness to see Indiana, [who] Camilla had told her would be at Southampton. 'Present me, I conjure thee, to the fair and amiable enslaver of my unhappy brother! I die to see, to converse with her, to catch from her lovely lips the modest wisdom with which he tells me they teem; to read in her speaking eyes the intelligence which he assures me illumines them.' She concluded with desiring her to give what orders she pleased for the coach, and the servants, and to pass the day with her friends.
Camilla, whose own sensations were now revived to happiness, read the letter with all the sympathy it claimed, and felt her eyes fill with generous tears at the contrast of their situations; yet she highly blamed the tenderness expressed for the unknown correspondent, though its innocence she was sure must vanquish even Edgar, since its so constant avowal proved it might be published to all mankind. She answered her in language nearly as affectionate, though less inflated than her own, and resolved to support her with Edgar, till her sweetness and purity should need no champions but themselves. She was ashamed of the species of expectation raised for Indiana, yet knew not how to interfere in Melmond's idea of her capacity, lest it might seem unkind to represent its fallaciousness; but she was glad to find her soft friend seemed to have a strict guardian in her brother; and wished eagerly to communicate to Edgar a circumstance which she was sure would be so welcome to him.
Impatient to see Eugenia, she accepted the offer of the carriage, and desirous to escape Mrs. Mittin, begged to have it immediately; but that notable person came to the door at the same time as the coach, and, without the smallest ceremony, said she would accompany her to the hotel, in order to take the opportunity of making acquaintance with her friends.
Courage frequently, at least in females, becomes potent as an agent, where it has been feeble as a principal. Camilla, though she had wished, upon her own account, to repress Mrs. Mittin in the morning, had been too timid for such an undertaking; but now, in her anxiety to oblige Edgar, she gathered resolution for declining her company. She then found, as is generally the case with the fearful, the task less difficult than she had expected; for Mrs. Mittin, content with a promise self-made, that the introduction should take place the next day, said she would go and help Mrs. Berlinton's woman to unpack her lady's things, which would make a useful friend for her in the house, for a thousand odd matters.
The carriage of Sir Hugh was just driving off as Camilla arrived at the hotel.
She hurried from Mrs. Berlinton's coach, demanding which way the company was gone; and being answered, by a passing waiter, up stairs, ran on at once, without patience or thought for asking if she should turn to the right or left; till seeing a gentleman standing still upon the landing place, and leaning upon the bannisters, she was retreating, to desire a conductor, when she perceived it was Dr. Orkborne; who, while the ladies were looking at accommodations, and inquiring about lodgings, in profound cogitation, and with his tablets in his hands, undisturbed by the various noises around him, and unmoved by the various spectators continually passing and repassing, was finishing a period which he had begun in the coach for his great work.
Camilla, cheerfully greeting him, begged to know which way she should find Eugenia; but, making her a sign not to speak to him, he wrote on. Accustomed to his manner, and brought up to respect whatever belonged to study, from the studious life and turn of her father, she obeyed the mute injunction, and waited quietly by his side; till, tired of the delay, though unwilling to interrupt him, she glided softly about the passage, watching and examining if she could see any of the party, yet fearing to offend or mortify him if she called for a waiter.
While straying about thus, as far off as she could go without losing sight of Dr. Orkborne, a door she had just passed was flung open, and she saw young Halder, whose licentious insolence had so much alarmed her in the bathing-house, stroam out, yawning, stretching, and swearing unmeaningly, but most disgustingly, at every step.
Terrified at his sight, she went on, as she could not get to the Doctor without passing him; but the youth, recollecting her immediately, called out: 'Ah, ha! are you there again, you little vixen?' and pursued her.
'Dr. Orkborne! Dr. Orkborne!' she rather screamed than said, 'pray come this way! I conjure—I beseech—I entreat—Dr. Orkborne!—'
The Doctor, catching nothing of this but his name, querulously exclaimed: 'You molest me much!' but without raising his eyes from his tablets; while Halder, at the appeal, cried: 'Ay, ay, Doctor! keep your distance, Doctor! you are best where you are, Doctor, I can tell you, Doctor!'
Camilla, then, too much scared to be aware she ran a far greater risk than she escaped, desperately sought refuge by opening the nearest door; though by the sudden noises upon the stairs, and in all the adjoining passages, it seemed as if Dr. Orkborne were the only one not alarmed by her cries.
No one, however, could approach so soon as the person of whose chamber she had burst the door; who was an old gentleman, of a good and lively countenance, who promptly presenting himself, looked at her with some surprise, but good humouredly asked her what she was pleased to want in his room.
'That gentleman,' she cried, panting and meaning to point to Dr. Orkborne; 'that gentleman I want, sir!' but such a medley of waiters, company, and servants, had in a moment assembled in the space between them, that the Doctor was no longer to be discerned.
'Do you only open my door, then,' said he, drily, 'to tell me you want somebody else?'
Yet when Halder, vowing he owed her an ill turn for which she should pay, would have seized her by the hand, he protected with his own arm, saying: 'Fie, boy, fie! let the girl alone! I don't like violence.'
A gentleman now, forcing himself through the crowd, exclaimed: 'Miss Camilla Tyrold! Is it possible! what can you do here, madam?'
It was Dr. Marchmont, whom the affrighted Camilla, springing forward, could only answer in catching by the arm.
'Tyrold!' repeated the old gentleman; 'Is her name Tyrold?'
Sorry now to have pronounced it in this mixt company, Dr. Marchmont evaded any answer; and, begging her to be composed, asked whither, or to whom, he might have the honour of conducting her.
'Almost all my family are here,' cried she, 'but I could not make Dr. Orkborne shew me the way to them.'
The old gentleman then, repeating 'Tyrold! why if her name is Tyrold, I'll take care of her myself;' invited her into his apartment.
Dr. Marchmont, thanking him, said: 'This young lady has friends, who in all probability are now uneasily seeking her; we must lose no time in joining them.'
'Well, but, well,' cried the old stranger, 'let her come into my room till the coast is clear, and then take her away in peace. Come, there's a good girl, come in, do! you're heartily welcome; for there's a person of your name that's the best friend I ever had in the world. He's gone from our parts, now; but he's left nothing so good behind. Pray, my dear, did you ever hear of a gentleman, an old Yorkshire Baronet, of your name?'
'What! my uncle?'
'Your uncle! why are you niece to Sir Hugh Tyrold?'
Upon her answering yes, he clapped his hands with delight, and saying: 'Why then I'll take care of you myself, if it's at the risk of my life!' carried, rather than drew her into his room, the Doctor following. Then, loudly shutting his door in the face of Halder, he called out: 'Enter my castle who dare! I shall turn a young man myself, at the age of seventy, to drub the first varlet that would attack the niece of my dear old friend!'
They soon heard the passage clear, and, without deigning to listen to the petulant revilings with which young Halder solaced his foolish rage, 'Why, my dear,' he continued, 'why did not you tell me your name was Tyrold at once? I promise you, you need carry nothing else with you into our parts, to see all the doors fly open to you. You make much of him, I hope, where he is? for he left not a dry eye for twenty miles round when he quitted us. I don't know how many such men you may have in Hampshire; but Yorkshire's a large county, yet the best man in it would find it hard to get a seat in Parliament, where Sir Hugh Tyrold would offer himself to be a candidate. We all say, in Yorkshire, he's so stuffed full of goodness and kindness, that there's no room left in him for anything else; that's our way of talking of him in Yorkshire; if you have a better way in Hampshire, I shall be glad to learn it; never too late for that; I hate pride.'
No possible disturbance could make Camilla insensible to pleasure in the praise of her uncle, or depress her spirits from joining in his eulogy; and her attention, and brightening looks, drew a narrative from the old gentleman of the baronet's good actions and former kindnesses, so pleasant both to the speaker and the hearer, that the one forgot he had never seen her before, and the other, the frightful adventure which occasioned their meeting now.
Dr. Marchmont at length, looking at his watch, inquired what she meant to do; to seek her sister and party, she answered; and, returning her host the warmest acknowledgments for his assistance and goodness, she was going; but, stopping her: 'How now?' he cried, 'don't you want to know who I am? Now I have told you I am a friend of your uncle, don't you suppose he'll ask you my name?'
Camilla, smiling, assured him she wished much to be informed, but knew not how to trouble him with the question.
'Why my name, my dear, is Westwyn, and when you say that to your uncle, he won't give you a sour look for your pains; take my word for that beforehand. I carried over his nephew and heir, a cousin, I suppose, of yours, to Leipsic with me, about eight years ago, along with a boy of my own, Hal Westwyn; a very good lad, I assure you, though I never tell him so to his face, for fear of puffing him up; I hate a boy puffed up; he commonly comes to no good; that's the only fault of my honoured friend; he spoils all young people—witness that same cousin of yours, that I can't say I much like; no more does he me; but tell your good uncle you have met me; and tell him I love and honour him as I ought to do; I don't know how to do more, or else I would; tell him this, my dear. And I have not forgot what he did for me once, when I was hard run; and I don't intend it; I'm no friend to short memories.'
Camilla said, his name, and her uncle's regard for him, had long been familiar to her; and told him Clermont Lynmere was of the party to Southampton, though she knew not how to enter abruptly into an explanation of his mistake concerning the inheritance. Mr. Westwyn answered he was in no hurry to see Clermont, who was not at all to his taste; but would not quit Hampshire without visiting Cleves: and when he gathered that two more nieces of Sir Hugh were in the house, he desired to be presented to them.
Upon re-entering the passage, to the great amusement of Dr. Marchmont, and serious provocation of Camilla, they perceived Dr. Orkborne, standing precisely where he had first stationed himself; attending no more to the general hubbub than to her particular entreaty, and as regardless of the various jolts he had received during the tumult, as of the obstruction he caused, by his inconvenient position, to the haste of the passers by. Still steadily reposing against the bannisters, he worked hard at refining his paragraph, persuaded, since not summoned by Miss Margland, he had bestowed upon it but a few minutes, though he had been fixed to that spot near an hour.
Miss Margland received Camilla with a civility which, since her positive and public affiance to Edgar, she thought necessary to the mistress of Beech Park; but she looked upon Dr. Marchmont, whom she concluded to have been her advocate, with a cold ill-will, which, for Mr. Westwyn, she seasoned still more strongly by a portion of contemptuous haughtiness; from a ready disposition to believe every stranger, not formally announced, beneath her notice.
The Doctor soon retired, and found Edgar in his apartment, just returned from a long stroll. He recounted to him the late transaction, with reiterated exhortations to circumspection, from added doubts of the solidity, though with new praise of the attractions of Camilla. 'She seems a character,' he said, 'difficult to resist, and yet more difficult to attach. Nothing serious appears to impress her for two minutes together. Let us see if the thoughtlessness and inadvertence thus perpetually fertile of danger, result from youthful inexperience, or have their source in innate levity. Time and reason will rectify the first; but time, and even reason, will but harden and embolden the latter. Prudence, therefore, must now interfere; or passion may fly, when the union it has formed most requires its continuance.'
Mr. Westwyn, charmed to meet so many near relations of a long-valued friend, struck by the extraordinary beauty of Indiana, and by the sensible answers of the child, as he called Eugenia; as well as caught by the united loveliness of person and of mind which he observed in Camilla, could not bring himself to retire till the dinner was upon the table: pleading, in excuse for his stay, his former intimacy with Sir Hugh. Miss Margland, seeing in him nothing that marked fashion, strove to distance him by a high demeanour: but though not wanting in shrewdness, Mr. Westwyn was a perfectly natural man, and only thinking her manners disagreeable, without suspecting her intention, took but little notice of her, from the time he saw she could give him no pleasure: while with the young party, he was so much delighted, that he seriously regretted he had only one son to offer amongst them.
When the dinner was served, Eugenia grew uneasy that Dr. Orkborne should be summoned, whose non-appearance she had not ventured to mention, from the professed hatred of his very sight avowed by Miss Margland. But Camilla, brought up to exert constantly her courage for the absent, told the waiter to call the gentleman from the head of the stairs.
'My master himself, ma'am,' he answered, 'as well as me, both told the gentleman the company he came with were served; but he as good as bid us both hold our tongues. He seems to have taken a great liking to that place upon the stairs; though there's nothing I know of particular in it.'
'But, if you tell him we wait dinner—' cried Eugenia; when Miss Margland, interrupting her said, 'I'm sure, then, you won't tell him true: for I beg we may all begin. I think it would be rather more decorous he should wait for us!'
The waiter, nevertheless, went; but presently returned, somewhat ruffled; saying, 'The gentleman does not choose to hear me, ma'am. He says, if he mayn't be let alone one single minute, it will be throwing away all his morning. I can't say I know what he means; but he speaks rather froppish. I'd as lieve not go to him again, if you please.'
Miss Margland declared, she wished him no better dinner than his pot-hooks; but did not doubt he would come just before they had done, as usual; and he was no more mentioned: though she never in her life eat so fast; and the table was ordered to be cleared of its covers, with a speed exactly the reverse of the patience with which the Doctor was indulged on similar occasions by the baronet.
Miss Margland, when the cloth was removed, proposed a sally in search of lodgings. Camilla and Eugenia, desirous of a private conference, begged to remain within; though the latter sought to take care of her absent preceptor, before she could enjoy the conversation of her sister; and when Miss Margland and Indiana, in secret exultation at his dinnerless state, had glided, with silent simpering, past him, flew to beseech his consent to take some nourishment.
Such, however, was his present absorption in what he was writing, that the voluntary kindness of his pupil was as unwelcome as the forced intrusion of the waiter; and he conjured her to grant him a little respite from such eternal tormenting, with the plaintive impatience of deprecating some injury.
The sisters, now, equally eager to relate and to listen to their mutual affairs, shut themselves up in the apartment of Eugenia; who, with the greatest simplicity, began the discourse, by saying, 'Have you heard, my dear sister, that Clermont has refused me?'
Camilla was severely shocked. Accustomed herself to the face and form of Eugenia, which, to her innocent affection, presented always the image of her virtuous mind and cultivated understanding, she had not presaged even the possibility of such an event; and, though she had seen with concern the inequality of their outward appearance, Clermont had seemed to her, in all else, so inferior to her sister, that she had repined at his unworthiness, but never doubted the alliance.
She was distressed how to offer any consolation; but soon found none was required. Eugenia was composed and contented, though pensive, and not without some feeling of mortification. Yet anger and resentment had found no place in the transaction. Her equity acknowledged that Clermont had every right of choice: but while her candour induced her to even applaud his disinterestedness in relinquishing the Cleves estate, her capacity pointed out how terrible must be the personal defects, that so speedily, without one word of conversation, one trial of any sort how their tastes, tempers, or characters might accord, stimulated him to so decisive a rejection. This view of her unfortunate appearance cast her, at first, into a train of melancholy ideas, that would fast have led her to unhappiness, though wholly unmixed with any regret of Clermont, had not the natural philosophy of her mind come to her aid; or had her education been of a more worldly sort.
When Camilla related her own history, her plan of making Edgar again completely master of his own proceedings met the entire approbation of Eugenia, who, with a serious smile, said, 'Take warning by me, my dear sister! and, little as you have reason to be brought into any comparison with such a one as me, anticipate the disgrace of defection!'
Camilla, much touched, embraced her, sincerely wishing she were half as faultless as her excellent self.
The return of Miss Margland and Indiana obliged them to quit their retreat; and they now found Dr. Orkborne in the dining-room. Having finished his paragraph, he had sought his party of his own accord; but, meeting with no one, had taken a book from his pocket, with which he meant to beguile the appetite he felt rising, till the hour of dinner, which he had not the smallest suspicion was over; for of the progress of time he had no knowledge but by its palpable passage from the sun to the moon; his watch was never wound up, and the morning and the evening were but announced to him by a summons to breakfast and to supper.
The ladies seated themselves at the window. Indiana was enchanted by the concourse of gay and well-dressed people passing by, and far from insensible to the visible surprise and pleasure she excited in those who cast up their eyes at the hotel. Eugenia, to whom a great and populous town was entirely new, found also, in the diversity as well as novelty of its objects, much matter for remark and contemplation; Miss Margland experienced the utmost satisfaction in seeing, at last, some faces and some things less rustic than had been presented to her in Yorkshire or at Cleves; and Camilla had every hope that this place, in Edgar's own expression, would terminate every perplexity, and give local date to her life's permanent felicity.
In a few minutes, a youth appeared on the opposite pavement, whose air was new to none of the party, yet not immediately recollected by any. It was striking, however, in elegance and in melancholy. Eugenia recollected him first, and starting back, gasped for breath; Indiana the next moment called out, 'Ah!... it's Mr. Melmond!' and blushing high, her whole face was bright and dimpled with unexpected delight.
He walked on, without looking up, and Indiana, simply piqued as well as chagrined, said she was glad he was gone.
But Eugenia looked after him with a gentle sigh, which now first she thought blameless, and a pleasure, which, though half mournful, she now suffered herself to encourage. Free from all ties that made her shun this partiality as culpable, she secretly told herself she might now, without injury to any one, indulge it for an object [whom,] little as he was known to her, she internally painted with all the faultless qualities of ideal excellence.
From these meditations she was roused by Dr. Orkborne's looking rather wishfully round him, and exclaiming, 'Pray ... don't we dine rather late?'
The mistake being cleared up, by Miss Margland's assuring him it was impossible to keep dinner waiting all day, for people who chose to stand whole hours upon a staircase, he felt rather discomforted: but when Eugenia privately ordered him a repast in his own chamber, he was amply consoled, by the unconstrained freedom with which he was empowered to have more books upon the table than plates; and to make more ink spots than he eat mouthfuls.
Camilla had the mortification to find, upon her return home, that Edgar had made his promised visit, not only in her absence, but while Mrs. Berlinton was still with her aunt.
The lady then communicated to Camilla the secret to which, while yet in ignorance of its existence, she now found she had been sacrificed. Mrs. Ecton, two years ago, had given her hand, in the most solemn privacy, to her butler, who now attended her to Southampton. To avoid disobliging a sick old relation, from whom she expected a considerable legacy, she had prevailed with her husband to consent that the marriage should not be divulged: but certain that whatever now might be her fortune, she had no power to bequeath it from her new connexion, the terror of leaving utterly destitute a beautiful young creature, who believed herself well provided for, had induced her to nearly force her acceptance of an almost superannuated old man of family; who, merely coveting her beauty, inquired not into her inclination. The same latent cause had made her inexorable to the pleadings of young Melmond; who, conceiving his fortune dependent upon the pleasure of his aunt, his certain income being trifling, thought it his duty to fly the fair object of his adoration, when he discovered the deceit of Lionel with regard to the inheritance of Sir Hugh. This sick old relation was now just dead, and had left to her sole disposal a considerable estate. The husband naturally refused to be kept any longer from his just rights; but the shame she felt of making the discovery of a marriage contracted clandestinely, after she was sixty years of age, with a man under thirty, threw her into a nervous fever. And, in this state, unable to reveal to her nephew an event which now affected him alone, she prevailed with Mr. Ulst, who was willing to revisit his original home, Southampton, to accompany her thither in his usual capacity, till she had summoned her nephew and niece, and acquainted them with the affair.
To herself, Mrs. Berlinton said, the evil of this transaction had been over, while yet it was unknown; she had heard it, therefore, in silence, and forborne unavailing reproach. But her brother, to whom the blow was new, and the consequences were still impending, was struck with extreme anguish, that while thus every possible hope was extinguished with regard to his love, he must suddenly apply himself to some business, or be reduced to the most obscure poverty.
Camilla heard the account with sincere concern for them both, much heightened for young Melmond, upon finding that, by his express desire, his sister now relinquished her design of cultivating an acquaintance with Indiana, whom he had the virtue to determine to avoid, since his fortune, and even his hopes, were thus irretrievably ruined.
They conversed together to a late hour; and Camilla, before they parted, made the most earnest apologies for the liberty taken with her house by Mrs. Mittin: but Mrs. Berlinton, with the utmost sweetness, begged she might stay till all her business with her was settled; smilingly adding, business alone, she was sure could bring them together.
Much relieved, she then determined to press Mrs. Mittin to collect and pay her accounts immediately; and to avoid with her, in the meanwhile, any further transactions.
Early the next morning, Camilla went to the hotel, in the carriage of Mrs. Berlinton; eluding, though not without difficulty, the company of Mrs. Mittin. She found the party all in good spirits; Indiana, in particular, was completely elated; joined to the admiration she believed awaiting her in this large and fashionable town, she now knew she might meet there the only person who had ever excited in her youthful, and nearly vacant breast, any appropriate pleasure, super-added to the general zest of being adored. She did not, indeed, think of marrying any one who could not offer her a coach and four; but so little was she disturbed by thinking at all, that the delight of being adulated by the man she preferred, carried with it no idea of danger. Eugenia too, soothed with the delusions of her romantic but innocent fancy, flattered herself she might now see continually the object she conceived formed for meriting her ever reverential regard; and Miss Margland was importantly occupied upon affairs best suited to her taste and ancient habits, in deliberating how first to bring forth her fair charge with the most brilliant effect.
Camilla was much embarrassed how to parry an introduction to Mrs. Berlinton, upon which all the females built as the foundation of their Southampton prosperity; the young ones, already informed she was the sister of Melmond, languishing to know her for his sake; and Miss Margland, formerly acquainted with the noble family of her husband, being impatient to resume her claims in similar circles; but an awkward beginning apology was set aside by the entrance of Edgar and Dr. Marchmont.
Indiana now poured forth innumerable questions upon what she might look forward to with respect to balls and public places; Eugenia asked nearly as many concerning the buildings, antiquities, and prospects; and Miss Margland more than either, relative to the company, their genealogies and connexions. The two Doctors soon sat aloof, conferring upon less familiar matters; but Edgar only spoke in reply, and Camilla uttered not a word.
Soon after, a voice on the stairs called out, 'O never mind shewing me the way; if I come to a wrong room, I'll go on till I come to a right;' and the next minute young Lynmere sallied into the apartment.
'I could not get to you last night,' cried he; 'and I can only stay a moment now. I have a pretty serious business upon my hands; so if you can give me any breakfast, don't lose time.'
Miss Margland, willing to please the brother of Indiana, readily ordered for him whatever the inn would afford, of which he failed not heartily to partake, saying, 'I have met with a good comic sort of adventure here already. Guess what it is?'
Indiana complied; but his own wish to communicate was so much stronger than that of anyone to hear, that, before she could pronounce three words, he cried: 'Well, if you're so excessive curious, I'll tell it you. I'm engaged in a duel.'
Indiana screamed; Miss Margland echoed her cry; Eugenia, who had looked down from his entrance, raised her eyes with an air of interest; Camilla was surprised out of her own concerns; and Edgar surveyed him with an astonishment not wholly unmixt with contempt; but the two Doctors went on with their own discourse.
'Nay, nay, Dye, don't be frightened; 'tis not a duel in which I am to fight myself; I am only to be second. But suppose I were first? what signifies? these are things we have in hand so often, we don't think of them.'
'La! brother! you don't say so?' cried Indiana: 'La! how droll!' He then pretended that he would tell nothing more.
Camilla inquired if he had seen Mr. Westwyn, whom she had met with the preceding day.
'Not I, faith! but that's apropos enough; for it's his son that has asked me to be his second.'
'O, poor good old Mr. Westwyn!' cried Camilla, now much interested in this history; 'and can you not save him such a shock? can you not be mediator instead of second? he seems so fond of his son....'
'O, as to him, it's no matter; he's such a harsh old hunks, I shall be glad to have him worked a little; I've often wanted to pull him by the nose, myself, he takes such liberties with me. But did you ever hear of such a fool as his son? he deserves to be badgered as bad as his father; he's going to fight with as fine an honest fellow as ever I met with, for nothing at all! absolutely nothing!'
'Dear! how droll!' said Indiana.
'But why can you not interfere?' cried Camilla: 'poor Mr. Westwyn will be made so unhappy if any evil befalls his son!'
'O, faith, as to him, he may take it as he will; I shan't trouble my head about him; he has made free enough with me, I can assure you; it's only to have him out of the way, that the business is put off till noon; it was to have been in the morning, but the old tyrant took it into his pate to make poor Henry, who is one of your good ones, and does nothing to vex him on purpose, ride out with him; he has promised, however, to get off by twelve o'clock, when four of us are to be at a certain spot that I shan't name.'
Camilla again began to plead the merits of the father; but Indiana more urgently demanded the reason of the combat. 'I dare say, brother, they fight about being in love with somebody? don't they, brother? now do tell me?'
'Not a whit! it's for a girl he don't care a straw for, and never saw but once in his life, and don't care a farthing if he never sees again.'
'Dear, how droll, brother! I thought people always fought about being in love with somebody they wanted to marry; and never but when she was excessive pretty.'
'O, faith, marriage seldom deserves a fighting match; but as to being pretty, that's all Harry has in his excuse, so he pretends she's as divine as an angel.'
'Dear! well, and don't you know anything more than that about it?'
'No, nor he neither; he only saw her at a bathing house, where a fine jolly young buck was paying her a few compliments, that she affected not to like; and presently, in a silly dispute whether she was a girl of character, they had a violent quarrel, and Harry was such a fool as to end it with a challenge.'
At the wordsa bathing house, the blood forsook the cheeks of Camilla with sudden personal alarm; but it mounted high into them again, upon hearing the nature of the dispute; though yet again it sunk, and left them wholly pallid, at the brief and final conviction she was the sole cause of this duel, and upon so disgraceful a dispute.
The emotions of Edgar, though less fearful, were not less violent nor painful. That Camilla should be the subject of any challenge was shocking, but of such a one he thought a dishonour; yet to prevent, and with the least publicity, its effect, was the immediate occupation of his mind.
A short pause ensued, broken presently by Clermont, who, looking at his watch, suddenly jumped up, and calling out, 'Faith, I shall be too late!' was capering out of the room; but the shame of Camilla in the disgrace, was overpowered by her terror of its consequences, and starting up, and clasping her hands, 'O cousin! O Clermont!' she cried, 'for Heaven's sake stop this affair!'
Clermont, satisfied that a sufficient alarm was raised to impede the transaction, without any concession on his part, declared himself bound in honour to attend the appointment, and, in extreme seeming haste and earnestness, walked off; stopping, however, when he came to the door, not to listen to the supplications of his cousin, but to toss off a fresh cup of chocolate, which a waiter was just carrying to the next room.
Camilla now, her face varying in colour twenty times in a minute, and her whole frame shaking, while her eyes were cast, conscious and timid, on the floor, approached Edgar, and saying, 'This young man's father is my dear uncle's friend!...' burst into tears.
Edgar, wholly dissolved, took her hand, pressed it to his lips, besought her, in a low voice, to dismiss her apprehensions, in the confidence of his most ardent exertions, and again kissing her hand, with the words, 'Too ... O, far too dear Camilla!' hastened after Lynmere.
Affected in a thousand ways, she dropt, weeping, upon a chair. Should the duel take place, and any fatal consequences follow, she felt she should never be happy again; and even, should it be prevented, its very suggestion, from so horrible a doubt of her character, seemed a stain from which it could never recover. The inconsiderate facility with which she had wandered about with a person so little known to her, so underbred, and so forward, appeared now to herself inexcusable; and she determined, if but spared this dreadful punishment, to pass the whole of her future life in unremitting caution.
Eugenia, with the kindest sympathy, and Indiana and Miss Margland, with extreme curiosity, sought to discover the reason of her emotion; but while begging them to dispense with an explanation, old Mr. Westwyn was announced and appeared.
The horrors of a culprit, the most cruel as well as criminal, seemed instantly the portion of the self-condemned Camilla; and, as he advanced with cheerful kindness, to inquire after her health, his ignorance that all his happiness, through her means, was that moment at stake, pierced her with a suffering so exquisite, that she uttered a deep groan, and sunk back upon her chair.
An instant's recollection brought her more of fortitude, though not of comfort; and springing up and addressing, though not looking at Mr. Westwyn, who was staring at her with astonishment and concern: 'Where, sir,' she cried, 'is your son? If you have the least knowledge which way he is gone ... which way he may be traced ... pursue and force him back this moment!... Immediately!...'
'My son!' repeated the good old gentleman, wanting no other word to participate in any alarm; 'what, Hal Westwyn?—'
'Follow him ... seek him ... send for him ... and do not, a single instant, lose sight of him all day!'
'My dear young lady, what do you mean? I'll send for him, to be sure, if you desire it; but what makes you so good as to think about my son? did you ever see my son? do you know my son? do you know Hal Westwyn?'
'Don't ask now, dear sir! secure him first, and make what inquiries you please afterwards.'
Mr. Westwyn, in evident consternation, walked out, Camilla herself opening the door; but turning back in the passage, strongly said: 'If the boy has been guilty of any misbehaviour, I won't support him; I don't like misbehaviour; it's a bad thing; I can't take to it.'
'O no! no! quite the contrary!' exclaimed the agitated Camilla, 'he is good, kind, generous! I owe him the greatest obligation! and I desire nothing upon earth so much, at this moment, as to see him, and to thank him!'
The old gentleman's eyes now filled with tears, and coming back, and most affectionately shaking hands with her, 'I was afraid he had misbehaved,' he cried; 'but he was always a good lad; and if he has done any thing for the niece of my dear Sir Hugh Tyrold, I shall hug him to my heart!' and then, in great, but pleased perturbation, he hurried away, saying to himself, as he went: 'I'll take him to her, to be sure; I desire nothing better! God bless her! If she can speak so well of my poor Hal, she must be the best girl living! and she shall have him ... yes, she shall have him, if she's a mind to him; and I don't care if she i'n't worth a groat; she's niece to my old friend; that's better.'
Camilla speeding, but not hearing him, returned to her seat; yet could not answer one question, from the horrors of her fears, and her shame of the detail of the business.
When the breakfast was over Miss Margland desired everyone would get ready to go to the lodgings; and, with Indiana, repaired herself to visit them, and give general orders. Dr. Marchmont had glided out of the room, in anxiety for Edgar; to the great dissatisfaction, and almost contempt of Dr. Orkborne, with whom he was just discussing some controverted points upon the shield of Achilles; which, that he could quit for the light concerns of a young man, added again to his surmises that, though he had run creditably the usual scholastic race, his reputation was more the effect of general ability and address, than of such sound and consummate learning as he himself possessed. Ruminating upon the ignorant injustice of mankind, in suffering such quacks in literature and philology to carry the palm of fame, he went to his chamber, to collect, from his bolster and bedside, the hoard of books and papers, from which, the preceding night, he had disencumbered his coat, waistcoat, and great coat pockets, inside and out, to review before he could sleep; and which now were again to encircle him, to facilitate their change of abode.
But Eugenia would not quit her afflicted sister, who soon, in her gentle breast, deposited the whole of her grief, her apprehensions, and her plans; charging her instantly to retire, if Edgar should return, that whatever might be the event he should unfold, she might release him immediately from an engagement that his last words seemed to avow did not make him happy, and that probably he now repented. The design was so consonant to the native heroism of Eugenia, that she consented, with applause, to aid its execution.
About half an hour, which seemed to be prolonged to twenty times the duration of the whole day, passed in terrible expectation; Edgar then appeared, and Eugenia, suspending her earnest curiosity, to comply with the acute feelings of her sister, retreated.
Camilla could scarce breathe; she stood up, her eyes and mouth open, her face pale, her hands uplifted, waiting, but not daring to demand intelligence.
Edgar, entering into her distress with a tenderness that drove from him his own, eagerly satisfied her: 'All,' he cried, 'is safe; the affair has been compromised; no duel has taken place; and the parties have mutually pledged themselves to forget the dispute.'
Tears again, but no longer bitter, flowed copiously down her cheeks, while her raised eyes and clasped hands expressed the fervency of her thankfulness.
Edgar, extremely touched, took her hand; he wished to seize a moment so nearly awful, to enforce upon her mind every serious subject with which he most desired it to be impressed; but sorrow was ever sacred to him; and desiring only, at this period, to console her: 'This adventure,' he cried, 'has now terminated so well, you must not suffer it to wound you. Dismiss it, sweet Camilla, from your memory!... at least till you are more composed.'
'No, sir!' cried Camilla, to whom his softness, by restoring her hope of an ultimately happy conclusion, restored strength; 'it ought never to be dismissed from my memory; and what I am now going to say will fix it there indelibly.'
Edgar was surprised, but pleased; his most anxious wishes seemed on the point of being fulfilled; he expected a voluntary explanation of every perplexity, a clearance of all mystery.
'I am sensible that I have appeared to you,' she resumed, 'in many points reprehensible; in some, perhaps, inexcusable....'
'Inexcusable? O no! never! never!'
'The letters of Sir Sedley Clarendel I know you think I ought not to have received....'
Edgar, biting his nails, looked down.
'And, indeed, I acknowledge myself, in that affair, a most egregious dupe!...'
She blushed; but her blush was colourless to that of Edgar. Resentment against Sir Sedley beat high in every vein; while disappointment to his delicacy, in the idea of Camilla duped by any man, seemed, in one blow, to detach him from her person, by a sudden dissolution of all charm to his mind in the connection.
Camilla saw, too late, she had been too hasty in a confession which some apologising account should have preceded; but what her courage had begun, pride now aided her to support, and she continued.
'For what belongs to that correspondence, and even for its being unknown to my friends, I may offer, perhaps, hereafter, something in exculpation; ... hereafter, I say, building upon your long family regard; for though we part ... it will be, I trust, in amity.'
'Part!' repeated Edgar, recovering from his displeasure by amazement.
'Yes, part,' said she, with assumed firmness; 'it would be vain to palliate what I cannot disguise from myself ... I am lessened in your esteem.' She could not go on; imperious shame took possession of her voice, crimsoned her very forehead, blushed even in her eyes, demolished her strained energy, and enfeebled her genuine spirit.
But the conscious taciturnity of Edgar recalled her exertions; struck and afflicted by the truth she had pronounced, he could not controvert it; he was mute; but his look spoke keen disturbance and bitter regret.
'Not so low, however, am I yet, I trust, fallen in your opinion, that you can wonder at the step I now take. I am aware of many errours; I know, too, that appearances have often cruelly misrepresented me; my errours you might have the candour to forget, and false appearances I could easily clear in my own favour—but where, and what is the talisman which can erase from my own remembrance that you have thought me unworthy?'
Edgar started; but she would not give him time to speak; what she had last uttered was too painful to her to dwell upon, or hear answered, and rapidly, and in an elevated manner, she went on.
'I here, therefore, solemnly release you from all tie, all engagement whatever with Camilla Tyrold! I shall immediately acquaint my friends that henceforth ... we Both are Free!'
She was then retiring. Edgar, confounded by a stroke so utterly and every way unexpected, neither answering nor interposing, till he saw her hand upon the lock of the door. In a voice then, that spoke him cut to the soul, though without attempting to stop her, 'This then,' he cried, 'Camilla, is your final adieu.'
She turned round, and with a face glowing, and eyes glistening, held out to him her hand: 'I knew not if you would accept,' she said, 'a kinder word, or I should have assured you of my unaltered regard ... and have claimed the continuance of your friendship, and even ... if your patience is not utterly exhausted, of your watchful counsel.... Farewell! remember me without severity! my own esteem must be permanent as my existence!'
The door, here, was opened by Miss Margland and Indiana, and Camilla hastily snatched away the hand which Edgar, grasping with the fondness of renovated passion, secretly meant to part with no more, till a final reconciliation once again made it his own; but compelled to yield to circumstance, he suffered it to be withdrawn; and while she darted into the chamber of Eugenia, to hide her deep emotion from Indiana, who was tittering, and Miss Margland, who was sneering, at the situation in which she was surprised, he abruptly took leave himself, too much impressed by this critical scene, to labour for uninteresting discourse.