 Book 2, Chapter 5 of Camilla This is a LibriVox recording, or LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, reading by Lars Rolander. Camilla or a Picture of Youth by Fanny Burnie, Chapter 5, A Raffle It was late when Edgar returned to Cleves. Camilla flew to meet him. He told her everything relative to her petitioner was in the most prosperous train. He had seen the prisoner, heard the particulars of his story, which all tended to his exculpation, and Mrs. Arbery had contrived to make acquaintance with his counsel, whom she found perfectly well disposed to exert himself in the course, and whom she had invited to a splendid supper. The trial was to take place the next morning. Camilla, already powerfully struck with Mrs. Arbery, was enchanted to find her thus active in benevolence. Edgar was to dine with that lady the next day, and to learn the event of their joint exertions. This proved all that could be wished. The prosecution had been mined, the judge and jury had been touched with compassion, and the venial offender had been released with a gentle reprimand. Manuel Burt returned to communicate these tidings to Camilla, with a pleasure exactly in unison with her own. Mrs. Arbery, he avowed, had been as seamless as himself, and had manifested a charity of disposition which the flightness of her manners had not let him to expect. The next object of attention was the raffle, which was to take place the following morning. Sir Yu was averse to letting his nieces go abroad again so soon, but Miss Maragland, extremely anxious about her own chance for the prize, solemnly asserted its necessity, invade against the mismanagement of everything at Cleaves, stifled all her complaints of Lionel, and pronounced a positive decision that, to carry Indiana to public places, was the sole method of promoting the match. Sir Yu then, willing to believe, and yet more willing to get rid of disputing with her, no longer withheld his consent. They were advanced within half a mile of Northwick, when a sick man, painfully supported by a woman with a child in her arms, caught their eyes. The ready hand of Eugenia was immediately in her pocket. Camilla, looking more intently upon the group, perceived another child, and presently recognized the wife of the prisoner. She called to the coachman to stop, and Edgar at the same moment rode up to the carriage. Miss Maragland angrily ordered the man to drive on, saying she was quite sick of being thus forever infested with beggars, who really came so often they were no better than pickpockets. Oh, don't refuse to let me speak to them, cried Camilla. It will be such a pleasure to see their joy. Oh, yes, they look in much joy indeed. They seem as if they had not eaten a morsel these three weeks. Drive on, I say, coachman. I like no such melancholy sights for my pot. They always make me ill. I wonder how anybody can bear them. But we may help them. We may assist them, said Camilla, with increasing earnestness, and pray when they have got all our money, who is to help us. Eugenia delighted to give, but unhabituated to any other exertion, flung half a crown to them, and Indiana, begging to look out, said, Dear, I never saw a prisoner before. Encouraged by an expressive look from Camilla, Edgar dismounted to hand her from the carriage, affecting not to hear the remonstrances of Miss Maraglan, though she scrupled not to deliver them very audibly. Eugenia languished to join them, but could not venture to disobey a direct command, and Indiana, observing the road to be very dusty, submitted to save a pair of beautiful new shoes. Camilla had all the gratification, she promised herself, in witnessing the happiness of the poor petitioner. He was crawling to cleaves with his family to offer thanks. They were penniless, sick, and wretched, yet the preservation of the poor man seemed to make misery light to them all. Edgar desired to know what were their designs for the future. The man answered that he should not dare go back to his own country, because there his disgrace was known, and he should procure no work, nor indeed was he now able to do any. So we must make up our minds to beg from door to door, and in the streets and on the high road, he continued, till I get back a little strength, and can earn a living more creditably. But as long as we have kept you alive, and saved you from being transported, said his wife, for which all thanks be due to this good gentleman, we shall mine no hardships, and never go astray again, in wicked unthinkingness of this great mercy. Edgar inquired what had been their former occupations. They answered they had both been day-workers in the field, till a fit of sickness had hindered the poor man from getting his livelihood. Pinary and hunger, then pressing hard upon them all, he had been tempted to commit the offence for which he was taken, and brought to death's door. But as now, he added, I have been saved. I shall make it a warning for the time to come, and never give myself up to so bad a course again. Edgar asked the woman what money she had left. Ah, sir, none! Who we had things to pay and people to satisfy, and so everything you and the good ladies gave us is all gone. For while anything was left us, they would not be easy. But this is no great mischief now, as my husband is not taken away from us, and is come to a right sense. I believe, said Edgar, you are very good sort of people, however distress has misguided you. He then put something into the man's hand, and Eugenia, who from the carriage window heard what passed, flung him another half-crown. Camilla added a shilling, and turning suddenly away, walked a few paces from them all. Edgar, gently following, inquired if anything was the matter. Her eyes were full of tears. I was thinking, she cried, what my dear father would have said, had he seen me giving half a guinea for a toy, and a shilling to such poor starving people as these. Why, what would he have said, cried Edgar, charmed with her penitence, though joining in the apprehended censor. He would more than ever have pitted those who want money, in seeing it so squandered by one who should better have remembered his lessons. Oh, if I could but recover that half guinea. Will you give me leave to get it back for you? Leave! You would lay me under the greatest obligation. How far half a guinea would go here, in poverty such as this? He assured her he could regain it without difficulty, and then telling the poor people to postpone their walk to police till the evening, when Camilla meant to prepare her uncle also to assist them. He handed her to the coach, with feelings yet more pleased than her own, and galloped forward to execute his commission. He was ready at the door of the library to receive them. As they alighted, Camilla eagerly cried, Well, have you succeeded? Can you trust yourself to this spot, and to a review of the allurement? Answered he, smiling and holding half a guinea between his fingers. Yet be content to see your chance for the price withdrawn. Oh, give it me! Give it me! cried she, almost ceasing it from him. My dear father will be so glad to hear I have not spent it so foolishly. The rafflers were not yet assembled. No one was in the shop but a well-dressed, elegant young man, who was reading at a table, and who neither raised his eyes at their entrance, nor suffered their discourse to interrupt his attention. Yet, though abstracted from outward objects, his studiousness was not of a solemn cast. He seemed wrapped in what he was reading, with a pleasure amounting to ecstasy. He started, acted, smiled, and looked pensive in turn, while his features were thrown into a thousand different expressions, and his person was almost rid with perpetually varying gestures. From time to time his rapture broke forth into loud exclamations of exquisite exquisite, while he beat the leaves of the book violently with his hands, in token of applause, or lifting them up to his lips, almost devoured with kisses the passages that charmed him. Sometimes he read a few words aloud, calling out, heavenly, and vehemently stamping his approbation with his feet, then suddenly shutting up the book, folding his arms, and casting his eyes towards the ceiling uttered, oh, too much, too much, there is no standing it. Yet again the next minute opened it, and resumed the lecture. The youthful group was much diverted with this unintended exhibition. To Giuginia alone it did not appear ridiculous. She simply envied his transports, and only wished to discover by what book they were excited. Edgar and Camilla mused themselves with conjecturing various authors. Indiana and Miss Marglind required no such aid to pass their time, while, with at least equal delight, they contemplated the hoped for prize. Lionel now bounced in. Why, what, cried he, are you all doing in this musty old shop when Mrs. Albury and all the world are enjoying the air on the public walks? Camilla was instantly forejoining that lady, but Giuginia felt an unconquerable curiosity to learn the running title of the book. She stole softly round to look over the shoulder of the reader, and her respect for his raptures increased when she saw they were raised by Thompson's seasons. Neither this approach nor the loud call of Lionel had interrupted the attention of the young student, who perceived and regarded nothing but what he was about, and though occasionally he ceased reading to indulge in passionate ejaculations, he seemed to hold everything else beneath his consideration. Lionel drawn to observe him from the circuit made by Giuginia exclaimed, What, Melmond, why, how long have you been in Hampshire? The youth surprised from his absence of mind by the sound of his own name, looked up, and said, O's that! Why, when the Jews did you come into this part of the world, cried Lionel, approaching him to shake hands. O, for pity's sake, answered he with energy, don't interrupt me. Why not? Have not you enough of that dry work at Oxford? Come, come, have done with this boyish stuff and behave like a man. You distract me, answered Melmond, motioning him away. I am in a scene that entrances me to Elysium. I have never read it since I could appreciate it. What, O Thompson, said Lionel, peeking over him. Why, I never read him at all. Come, man, giving him a slap on the shoulder. Come along with me, and I'll show you something more worth looking at. You will drive me mad if you break in upon this episode. This is a picture of all that is divine upon earth. Hear it, only hear it. He then began the truly elegant and feeling description that concludes Thompson's spring. And though Lionel with a loud shout cried, Do you think I come dither for such forgum stuff as that? And ran out of the shop. The rapt enthusiast continued reading aloud, too much delighted with the pathos of his own voice in expressing the sentiments of the poet, to deny himself a regale so soothing to his ears. Eugenia enchanted stood on tiptoe to a hearing, her uplifted finger petitioning silence all around, and her heart fondly repeating, Oh, just such a youth beclermon, just such his passion for reading, just such his fervor for poetry, just such his exultation of delight in literary yet domestic felicity. Manelbert also caught by the rehearsal of his favorite picture of a scheme of human happiness, which no time, no repetition can make vapid to a feeling heart, stood pleased and attentive to hear him. Even Indiana, though she listened not to the matter, was struck by the manner in which it was delivered, which so resembled dramatic recitation, that she thought herself at a play, and full of wonder advanced straight before him, to look full in his face, and watched the motions of his right arm, with which he acted incessantly, while the left held his book. Miss Marglind concluded he was a strolling player, and did not suffer him to draw her eyes from the locket. But when, at the words, content, retirement, rural, quiet, friendship, books, ease and alternate labor, useful life, progressive virtue, and approving heaven, Manelbert turned softly round to read their impression on the countenance of Camilla. She was gone. Attracted by her wish to see more of Mrs. Arbery, she had run out of the shop after Lionel, before she either knew what was reading, or was missed by those the reader had engaged. Edgar, though disappointed, wondered he should have stayed himself to listen to what had long been familiar to him, and was quietly gliding away when he saw her returning. He then went back to his post, wondering with stillness satisfaction how she could absent herself from hearing what so well was worth her studying. The young man, when he came to the concluding line, two scenes were love and bliss, a mortal reign. Rose, let fall the book, clasped his hands with a theatrical air, and was casting his eyes upwards in a fervent and willing trance, when he perceived Indiana standing immediately before him. Surprised and ashamed, his sublimity suddenly forsook him, his arms dropped, and his hands were slipped into his waist-coast pockets. But the very next moment, the sensation of shame and of self, was superseded by the fair object that had thus aroused him. Her beauty, her youth, her attitude of examination struck him at first with an amazement that presently gave place to an admiration as violent as it was sudden. He started back, bowed profoundly, without any pretence of bowing at all, and then, reverting his eyes, in which his whole soul seemed centered on her lovely face, stood viewing her with a look of homage, motionless yet enraptured. Indiana still conceiving this to be some sort of acting. Harnabash kept her post, expecting every moment he would begin spouting something more. But the enthusiasm of the young oxonian had changed his object. The charms of poetry gillied to the superior charms of duty, and while he gazed on the fair Indiana, his fervent mind fancied her some being of celestial order, wonderfully accorded to his view. How, or for what purpose, he as little knew as cared. The play of imagination in the romance of early youth is rarely interrupted with scruples of probability. This scene of dumbed transport and unfixed expectation was broken up neither by the admirer nor the admired, but by the entrance of Mrs. Arbery. Sir Sedley Clarendall, Lionel, the officers, and many of the rest of the company that had been present at the public breakfast. Nor would even this intrusion have disengaged the young oxonian from his devout and ecstatic adoration. Had it been equally indifferent to Indiana, but the appearance of a party of gay officers was not to her a matter of little moment. Eager for the notice in which she delighted, she looked round in full confidence of receiving it. The rapture of the oxonian, as she had seen it kindled while he was reading, she attributed to something she did not understand, and took in it therefore no part. But the odilation of the officers was by no means ambiguous, and its acceptance was as obvious as its presentation. Willingly therefore, as well as immediately encompassed, she received a thousand compliments, and in the gratification of hearing them, completely forgot her late short surprise. But the oxonian, more forcibly struck, ardently followed her with a size, started back theatrically at every change of attitude, which displayed her fine figure, and at her smiles smiled again, from the uncontrollable sympathy of a fascinated imagination. Miss Margeline felt no small pride in seeing her pupil thus distinguished, since it marked the shrewdness of her capacity in foretelling the effect of bringing her forth, anxious to share in a consequence to which she had industriously contributed, she paradingly forced her way through the group, and calling the attention of Indiana to herself said, I am glad you came away, my dear, for I am sure that man is only poor strolling player. Dear, let me look at him again, cried Indiana, for I never saw player before, only at a play. She then turned back to examine him, and chanted to again meet her eyes, the youth bowed with intense respect, and advanced a few paces, as if with intention to speak to her, though immediately, and with still more precipitance, he retreated from being ready with nothing to say. Lionel going up to him and pulling him by the arm, cried, Why man, what's come to you? These are worse heroics than I have seen you in yet. The bright eyes of Indiana, being still fixed upon him, he disdained all notice of Lionel beyond a silent repulse. Indiana, having now satisfied her curiosity, restored her attention to the bow that surrounded her, the oxonian half-sighing unfolded his clasped hands, one of which he reposed upon the shoulder of Lionel. Come, prithee, be a little less in alt, cried Lionel, and answer a man when he speaks to you, where did you leave Smith's son? Who is that divinity? Can you tell me? said the oxonian in a low and respectful tone of inquiry. What divinity? What divinity? Insensible Tyrol, tasteless, adamantine. Look, look, John the Renost me again, if you can. Oh, what, my cousin Indiana? Your cousin? Have you any affinity with such a creature as that? Oh Tyrol, in glory in your acquaintance, she's all I ever read of, all I ever conceived. She's beauty in its very essence. She's elegance, delicacy, and sensibility personified. All very true, said Lionel. But how should you know anything of her besides her beauty? How? By looking at her, can you view that countenance and ask me how? Are not those eyes all soul? Does not that mouth promise everything that is intelligent? Can those lips ever move but to diffuse sweetness and smiles? I must not look at her again. Another glance may set me raving. May? cried Lionel, laughing. Why, what have you been doing all this time? However, be a little less in the sublime, and I'll introduce you to her. Is it possible? Shall I owe to you so celestial a happiness? Oh Tyrol, you bind me to you for life! Lionel, heartily hallowing, then brought him forward to Indiana. Miss Linmer, he cried, a fellow student of mine, though somewhat more given to study than your poor cousin, most humbly begs the honor of kissing your toe. The uncommon lowness of the bow, which the oxonian ignorant of what Lionel would say, was making, led Miss Margeline to imagine he was really going to perform that poppish ceremony. And hastily pulling Lionel by the sleeve, she angrily said, Mr. Lionel, I decide to know by whose authority you present such actor-man to a young lady under my care. Lionel, almost in convulsions, repeated this aloud, and the young student who had just in a voice of the deepest interest in respect begun. The high honor, madam, hearing an universal laugh from the company, stopped short, utterly disconcerted, and uttered few vainly stammering attempts, bowed again, and was silent. Edgar, who in this distress read the ingeniousness of nature that counter-poised its romantic enthusiasts, felt for the young man, and taking Lionel by the arm said, Will you not introduce me also to your friend? Mr. Melmont of Brazen knows, Mr. Mandelbert of Beech Park, tried Lionel, flourishing and bowing from one to the other. Edgar shook hands with the youth, and hoped they should be better acquainted. Camilla, lighting round, whispered him, How like my dear father was that, to give relief to embarrassment, instead of joining in the laugh which excites it. Edgar, touched by a comparison to the person he most honored, gratefully looked his acknowledgment, and all his pleasure at a flight, even from Thompson's scene of conjugal felicity, was erased from his mind. The company grew impatient for the raffle, though some of the subscribers were not arrived. It was voted at the proposition of Mrs. Arbery that the master of the shop should represent, as their turns came round, those who were absent. While this was settling, Edgar, in some confusion, drew Camilla to the door, saying, To avoid any perplexity about your throwing, suppose you step into the harbour dasher shop that is over the way. Camilla, who already had felt very awkward, with the respect to her withdrawn subscription, gladly agreed to the proposal, and begging him to explain the matter to Ms. Marblein, tripped across the street, while the rafflers were crowding to the point of action. Here she sat making some small purchases till the business was over. The whole party then came forth into the street, and all in a body poured into the harbour dasher shop, smiling, bowing, and of one accord wishing her joy. Concluding this to be indirition of her desertion, she rallied as well as she was able. But Mrs. Arbery, who entered the last, and held the locket in her hand, said, Mr. Old, I heartily wish you equally brilliant success in the next and far more dangerous lottery, in which I presume you will try your fate, and presented her the prize. Camilla, colouring, laughing, and unwillingly taking it, said, I suppose, ma'am, I hope it's yours. And she looked about for Edgar to assist her, but he was gone to hasten the carriage. Everybody crowded round her to take a last sight of the beautiful locket. Eager to get rid of it, she put it into the hands of Indiana, who regarded it with a partiality which her numerous admirers had courted. Individually, in vain, though the Jung-Oxonian, by his dramatic emotions, had engaged more of her attention than she had yet bestowed elsewhere. Eugenia, too, caught by his eccentricity, was powerfully impelled to watch and admire him, and not less in the unenvying innocence of her heart for his evident predilection in favour of her cousin. This youth was not, however, suffered to engross her. The stranger by whom she had already been distinguished at the ball and public breakfast was one in the group, and resumed the claim upon her notice, too flattering in its manner to be repulsed, and too new to her extreme inexperience to be obtrusive. Meanwhile, Camilla gathered from major service that the price had really fallen to her lot. Edgar had excused her not staying to throw for herself, but the general proxy, the bookseller, had been successful in her name. In great perplexity how to account for this incident, she apprehended Edgar had made some mistake and determined through his means to restore the locket to the subscription. The carriage show Mrs. Arbery was first ready, but pushing away from the throng of both offering assistance, she went up to Camilla and said, fair object of the spleen of all around, will you bring a little of your influence with good fortune to my domain and come and dine with me? Delighted at the proposal, Camilla looked at Miss Margilland, but Miss Margilland not being included in the imitation frowned a refusal. Edgar now entered and announced the coach of Sir Hugh. Make use of it as you can, said Mrs. Arbery. There is room for one more to go back than it brought, so pray do the honours prettily. Plarendle, take care of Miss Tyrell to my coach. Sir Sadie smiled and played with his watch chain, but did not move. Oh, you lazies to all lazy wretches, cried Mrs. Arbery. I shall reverse the epithet and be the alertest of the alerts, said Major Servant, if the commission may be devoted to myself. Positively not for the world. There is nothing so pleasant as working the indolent, except indeed making the restless keep quiet. So come forth, Clarendle. Be civil and strike us all with astonishment. My adored Mrs. Arbery, cried he, hoisting himself upon the shop counter, and swinging a switch to and fro with a languid motion. Your maxims are all of the first, you palliative, except this. But nobody's civil now, you know. It is a phogrammity quite out. So you absolutely won't stir, then? Oh, pray, pray, answered he, putting on his hat and folding his arms. A little mercy, it is so vastly insufferably hot. Calcutta must be in the frigid zone to this shop. A very ice house. Camilla, who never imagined rudeness, could make a feature of affection, internally attributed this refusal to his peak, that she had disregarded him at the public breakfast, and would have made him some apology, but knew not in what manner to word it. The major again came forward. But Miss Margland, advancing, also said, Miss Camilla, you won't think of dining out unknown to Sir Yug. I am sure, cried Mrs. Arbery, you will have the goodness to speak for me to Sir Yug. Then, turning to Lionel, Mr. Tyrol, she added, you must go with us, that you may conduct your sister's safe home. Don't be fronting, I shall invite you for your own sake another time. Come, you abominable clarindal, awake, and give a little spring to our motions. You are most incomodiously cruel, answered he. But I am bound to be your slave. Then, calling to one of the apprentices in the shop, my vastly good boy, he cried, do you want to see me irrecoverably subdued by this immensely inhuman heat? The boy stired and said, sir, if not to get me glass of water. A worse and worse, said Mrs. Arbery, your whims are insupportable. I give you up, major advance. The major with alacrity offered his hand. Camilla hesitated. She wished passionately to go, yet felt she had no authority for such a measure. The name, though not the person, or Mrs. Arbery, was known both at Cleves and at Eddington, as belonging to the owner of a capital house in the neighborhood. And though the invitation was without form, Camilla was too young to be withheld by ceremony. Her uncle, she was sure, could refuse her nothing. And she thought, as she was only a visitor at Cleves, Miss Margland had no right to control her. The pleasure, therefore, of the scheme soon conquered every smaller difficulty, and looking away from her party, she suffered herself to be led to the coach. Miss Margland, as she passed, said aloud, Remember, I give no consent to this. But Eugenia on the other side whispered, Don't be uneasy. I will explain to my uncle how it all happened. Mrs. Arbery was following, when Indiana exclaimed, Cousin Camilla, what am I to do with your locket? Camilla had fully forgotten it. She called to Edgar, who slowly and with a seriousness very unusual, obeyed her summons. There has been some great mistake, said she, about the locket. I suppose they neglected to scratch out my name from the subscription, for made your servant says it really came to me. Will you be so good as to return it to the bookseller? The gravity of Edgar immediately vanished. Are you so ready, he said, even when it is in your possession, to part with so pretty a trinket? You know it cannot be mine, for here is my half guinea. Mrs. Arbery then got into the coach. But Camilla, still father recollecting herself, again called to Edgar, and holding out the half guinea, said, How shall I get this to the poor people? They were to come, he answered, to Cleaves this afternoon. Will you then give it them for me? No commission to Mr. Manorbert, interrupted Mrs. Arbery, for he must positively dine with us. Manorbert bowed a pleased assent, and Camilla applied to Eugenia. But Miss Margland in deep wrath refused to let her move a step. Mrs. Arbery then ordered the coach to drive home. Camilla, begging a moment's delay, decided Edgar to approach nearer, and said in a low voice, I cannot bear to let those poor expectants toil so far for nothing. I will sooner go back to Cleaves myself. I shall not sleep all night if I disappoint them. Pray, invent some excuse for me. If you have set your heart upon this visit, answered Manorbert with vivacity, though in a whisper, I will ride over myself to Cleaves, and arrange all to your wishes. But if not, certainly that can need no invention, to decline an invitation of which Sir Eugen has no knowledge. Camilla, who at the beginning of this speech felt the highest glee, sunk involuntarily at its conclusion, and turning with the blank countenance to Mrs. Arbery, stammeringly said, Can you, will you be so very good as not to take it ill if I don't go with you? Mrs. Arbery surprised, very coldly answered. Certainly not. I would be no restraint upon you. I hate restraint myself. She then ordered the footman to open the door, and Camilla, too much a bash to offer any apology, was handed out by Edgar. Amable Camilla, said he, in conducting her back to Miss Margland, This is a self-conquest that I alone perhaps expected from you. Chared by such approbation, she forgot her disappointment, and regardless of Miss Margland and her ill-humour, jumped into her uncle's coach, and was the gaze of the party that returned to Cleaves. Edgar took the locket from Indiana, and promised to rectify the mistake, and then, lest Mrs. Arbery should be offended with them all, wrote to her house without any fresh invitation, accompanied by Lionel, whose anger against Camilla for suffering Miss Margland to gain a victory, was his theme the whole ride. 6. A Barn The first care of Camilla was to interest Sir Hugh in the misfortunes of the prisoner and his family, her next to relate the invitation of Mrs. Arbery, and to beg permission that she might wait upon the lady the next morning with apologies for her abrupt retreat, and with acknowledgments for the services done to the poor woman, which first, the oxonean, and then the raffle, had driven from her mind. Sir Hugh readily consented, blaming her for supposing it possible he could ever hesitate in what could give her any pleasure. Before the Tea Party broke up, Edgar returned. He told Camilla he had stolen away the instant the dinner was over to avoid any mistake about the poor people, whom he had just overtaken by the Parkgate, and conducted to the Great Barn, where he had directed them to wait for orders. I'll run to them immediately, cried she, for my half-guinea is in an agony to be gone. The Barn, my dear Mr. Mendel there, exclaimed Sir Hugh, and why did you not bring them to the servant's hall? My little girl has been telling me all their history, and, God forbid, I should turn hard-hearted because of their wanting a leg of mutton in preference to being starved, though they might have had no great right to it, according to the forms of law, which, however, is not much impediment to the calls of nature when a man sees a butcher's stall well-covered, and has got nothing within him except his own poor, craving appetite. Which is a thing I always take into consideration, though, God forbid, I should protect a thief, no man's property being in others, whether he's poor or rich. He then gave Camilla three guineas to deliver to them from himself to set them a little agoing in an honest way that they might not, he said, repent leaving off bad actions. Her joy was so excessive that she passionately embraced his knees, and Edgar, while he looked on, could nearly have bent to her his own with admiration of her generous nature. Eugenia desired to accompany her, and Indiana, rising also, said, Dear, I wonder how they will look in the barn. I should like to see them, too. Miss Marglind made no opposition, and they set out. Camilla, leading the way with a flitness that mocked all equality, ran into the barn, and saw the whole party, according to their several powers, enjoying themselves. The poor man, stretched upon straw, was resting his aching limbs. His wife, by his side, was giving nourishment to her baby, and the other child, a little boy of three years old, was jumping and turning head over heels with a true glee of unspoiled nature, superior to poverty and distress. To the gay heart of Camilla, whatever was sportive was attractive. She flew to the little fellow, whose skin was clean and bright in the midst of his rags and wretchedness, and, making herself his playmate, bit the woman, finished feeding her child, told the man to repose himself undisturbed, and began dancing with the little boy, not less delighted than himself at the festive exercise. Miss Marglind cast up her hands and eyes as she entered, and poured forth a warm remonstrance against so demeaning a condescension. But Camilla, in whose composition pride had no share, though spirit was a principal ingredient, danced on unheating to the equal amaze and enchantment of the poor man and woman, at the honor done to their little son. Edger came in last. He had given his arm to Eugenia, who was always in the rear if unassisted. Miss Marglind appealed to him upon the impropriety of the behavior of Camilla, adding, If I had had the bringing up a young lady who could so degrade herself, I protest I should blush to shoe my face. But you cannot, I am sure, fail remarking the difference of Miss Lindmere's conduct. Edger attended with an air of complacency, which he thought due to the situation of Miss Marglind in the family, yet kept his eyes fixed upon Camilla, with an expression that, to the least discernment, would have evinced his utmost approbation of her, his innocent gaiety. But Miss Marglind was amongst that numerous tribe who, content as well as occupied with making observations upon others, have neither the power nor thought of developing those that are returned upon themselves. Camilla at length, wholly out of breath, gave over, but perceiving that the baby was no longer at its mother's breast, flew to the poor woman, and, taking the child in her arms, said, Come, I can nurse and rest at the same time. I assure you, the baby will be safe with me, for I nurse all the children in our neighborhood. She then fondled the poor little half-starved child to her bosom, quieting and kissing and cooing over it. Miss Marglind was still more incensed, but Edgar could attend to her no longer, charmed with a youthful nurse and seeing in her unaffected attitudes a thousand graces he had never before remarked, and reading in her fondness for children the genuine sweetness of her character. He could not bear to have the pleasing reflections revolving in his mind interrupted by the spleen of Miss Marglind, and, slipping away, posted himself behind the baby's father, where he could look on undisturbed, certain it was a vicinity to which Miss Marglind would not follow him. Had this scene lasted till Camilla was tired, its period would not have been very short. But Miss Marglind, finding her exhortation's vein, suddenly called out, Miss Lindmere, Miss Eugenia, come away directly. It's ten to one, but these people have all got the gist of the story. But these people have all got the gaol distemper. Edgar, quick as lightning at this sound, flew to Camilla and snatched the child from her arms. Indiana, with a scream, ran out of the barn. Miss Marglind hurried after, and Eugenia following earnestly entreated Camilla not to stay another moment. And what is there to be alarmed at? cried she. I always nurse poor children when I see them at home, and my father never prohibits me. There may be some reason, however, said Edgar, while still he tenderly held the baby himself, for the present apprehension. I beg you, therefore, to hasten away. At least, said she, before I depart, let me execute my commission. And then, with the kindest good wishes for their better fortune, she put her uncle's three guineas into the hands of the poor man, and her own rescued half-guiney into those of his wife. And desiring Edgar not to remain himself, where he would not suffer her to stay, ran to give her arm to Eugenia, leaving it a doubtful point whether the good humor accompanying her alms made the most pleased impression upon their receivers, or upon their observer. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 A Declaration At night, while they were enjoying the bright beams of the moon, from an apartment in the front of the house, they observed a strange footman in a superb livery ride towards the servants' hall, and presently a letter was delivered to Miss Marglant. She opened it with an air of exulting consequence, one which was enclosed she put into her pocket, and read the other three or four times over with looks of importance and complacency. She then pompously demanded a private audience with Sir Hugh, and the young party left the room. Well, sir, she cried proudly, you may now see if I judge right as to taking the young ladies a little into the world. Pleased to look at this letter, sir. To Miss Marglant, at Sir Hugh Tyrold's, Bart, Cleaves, Hampshire. Madame, with the most profound respect I presume to address you, though only upon the strength of that market politeness which shines forth in your department, I have the highest ambition to offer a few lines to the perusal of Miss Eugenia Tyrold, previous to presenting myself to Sir Hugh. My reasons will be contained in the letter which I take the liberty to put into your hands. It is only under your protection, Madame, I can aim at approaching that young lady, as all that I have either seen or heard convinces me of her extraordinary happiness in being under your direction. Your influence, Madame, I should therefore esteem as an honour, and I leave it wholly to your own choice, whether to read what I have addressed to that young lady before or after she has deigned to cast an eye upon it herself. I remain with the most profound respect, Madame, your most obedient and obliged servant, Alfonso Bellamy. I shall take the liberty to send my servant for an answer tomorrow evening. This, Sir, continued Miss Marglenn, when Sir Hugh had read the letter, this is the exact conduct of a gentleman, all open, all respectful, no attempt at any clandestine intercourse, all is addressed where it ought to be to the person most proper to superintend such an affair. This is that very same gentleman whose politeness I mentioned to you and who danced with Miss Eugenia at Northwick when nobody else took any notice of her. This is—why, then, this is one of the most untowered things, cried Sir Hugh, who vainly waiting for a pause began to speak with that one that has ever come to bear, for where's the use of Eugenia's making poor young fellows fall in love with her for nothing, which I hold to be a pity, provided it's sincere, which I take for granted. As to that, Sir, I can't say I see a reason why Miss Eugenia should not be allowed to look about her and has some choice, especially as the young gentleman abroad has no fortune, at least non-answerable to her expectations. But that's the very reason for my marrying them together, for, as he has not had, the smallpox himself, that is not in the natural way, which, Lord, help me, I thought the best, owing to my want of knowledge, why, hill the more readily excuse her face not being one of the prettiest for her kindness in putting up with his having so little money, being a thing some people think a good deal of. But, Sir, won't it be very hard upon poor Miss Eugenia, if a better offer should come that she must not listen to it, only because of a person she has never seen, though he has no estate? Miss Morgland, said Sir Hugh with some heat, this is the very thing that I would sooner have given a crown than to have had happen. Who knows, but Eugenia may take a fancy to this young jack and apes, who, for all I know, may be as good a man as another, for which I beg his pardon, but as he has nothing to me, and my nephew is my nephew, why am I to have the best scheme I ever made knocked on the head for a person I had as leave were twitched into the Red Sea? Which, however, is a thing I should not say, being what I would not do. Miss Morgland took from her pocket the letter designed for Eugenia, and was going to break the seal, but Sir Hugh, preventing her, said, No, Miss Morgland, Eugenia shall read her own letters. I have not had her taught all this time by one of the first scholars of the age, as far as I can tell, to put that affront upon her. He then rang the bell and sent for Eugenia. Miss Morgland stated the utter impropriety of suffering any young lady to read a letter of that sort till proposals had been laid before her parents and guardians. But Sir Hugh spoke no more till Eugenia appeared. My dear, he then said, Here is a letter just come to put your education to the trial, which I make no doubt will stand the test properly. Therefore, in regard to the answer, you shall write it all yourself, being qualified in a manner to which I have no right to pretend, though I shall go tomorrow to my brother, which will give me a better insight, his head being one of the best. Eugenia, greatly surprised, opened the letter and read it with visible emotion. Well, my dear, and what do you say to it? Without answering, she read it again. Sir Hugh repeated the question. Indeed, sir, said she in a tone of sadness, it is something that afflicts me very much. Lord help us, cried Sir Hugh, this comes of going to a ball, which begging Miss Marglind's pardon is the last time it shall be done. Miss Marglind was beginning a vehement defense of herself, but Sir Hugh interrupted it by desiring to see the letter. Eugenia, with increased confusion, folded it up and said, Indeed, sir, indeed, uncle, it is a very improper letter for me to shoe. Well, that, cried Miss Marglind, is a thing I could never have imagined, that a gentleman, who is so much the gentleman, should write an improper letter? No, no, interrupted she, not improper perhaps for him to write, but for me to exhibit. Oh, that's all, my dear, said Sir Hugh, if it's only because of a few compliments, I beg you not to mind them, because of their having no meaning, which is a thing common enough in the way of making love, by what I hear. Though such a young thing as you can know nothing of the matter, you're learning not going in that line, nor are Dr. Orkborn's neither, if one may judge, which, God forbid, I should find fault with, being no business of mine. He then, again, asked to see the letter, and Eugenia, ashamed to refuse, gave it and went out of the room. To Miss Eugenia Tyrold cleaves, Madam, the delicacy of your highly cultivated mind ows even the violent passion which you inspire, and to this I entreat you to attribute the trembling fear which deters me from the honour of waiting upon Sir Hugh, while uncertain if my addressing him might not raise your displeasure. I forbear, therefore, to lay before him my pretensions for soliciting your favour from the deepest apprehension you might think I presumed too far upon an acquaintance to my unhappiness so short. Yet, as I feel it to have excited in me the most lasting attachment from my fixed admiration of your virtues and talents, I cannot endure to run the risk of incurring your aversion. Allow me, then, once more, under the sanction of that excellent lady in whose care I have had the honour of seeing you to entreat one moment's audience, that I may be graced with your own commands about waiting upon Sir Hugh, without which I should hold myself ungenerous and unworthy to approach him, since I should blush to throw myself at your feet from an authority which you do not permit. I beseech you, madame, to remember that I shall be miserable till I know my doom, but still that the heart, not the hand, can alone bestow happiness on a disinterested mind. I have the honour to be, madame, your most devoted and obedient humble servant, Alfonso Bellamy. Sir Hugh, when he had finished the letter, he'd sigh and lent his head upon his hand, considering whether or not to let it be seen by Miss Margland. Who, however, not feeling secure what his determination might be, had so contrived to sit at the table as to read it at the same time with himself, nor had she weighed the interest of her curiosity amiss. Sir Hugh, dreading a debate with her, soon put the letter into his pocketbook and, again, sent for Eugenia. Eugenia excused herself from returning, pleaded a headache, and went to bed. Sir Hugh was in the deepest alarm. Though the evening was far advanced, he could scarce refrain from going to Etherington directly. He ordered his carriage to be at the door at eight o'clock the next morning, and sent a second order a moment after that it should not be later than half past seven. He then summoned Camilla, and, giving her the letter, bid her run with it to her sister, for fear it was that she was fretting for. And soon after he went to bed, that he might be ready in the morning. Eugenia, meanwhile, felt the placid composure of her mind now for the first time shaken. The assiduities of this young man had already pleased and interest her, but, though gratified by them in his presence, they occurred to her no more in his absence. With the Oksonian, she had been far more struck. His energy, his sentiments, his passion for literature would instantly have riveted him in her fairest favor, had she not so completely regarded herself as the wife of Claremont Lindmere, that she denied her imagination any power over her reason. This letter, however, filled her with sensations wholly new. She now first reflected seriously upon the nature of her situation with regard to Claremont, for whom she seemed to be spoken by her uncle without the smallest knowledge how they might approve or suit each other. Perhaps he might dislike her. She must then have the mortification of being refused. Perhaps he might excite her own antipathy. She must then either disappoint her uncle, or become a miserable sacrifice. Here, on the contrary, she conceived herself an elected object. The difference of being accepted or being chosen worked forcibly upon her mind, and all that was delicate, feminine, or dignified in her notions rose in favor of him who sought, when opposed to him who could only consent to receive her. Generous too, he appeared to her, in forbearing to apply to curfew without her permission, disinterested in declaring he did not wish for her hand without her heart, and noble in not seeking her in a clandestine manner, but referring everything to Miss Marglant. The idea also of exciting and ardent passion lost none of its force from its novelty to her expectations. It was not that she had hitherto supposed impossible, she had done less, she had not thought of it at all. Nor came it now with any triumph to her modest and unassuming mind. All it brought with it was gratitude towards Bellamy, and as something soothing towards herself, which though inexplicable to her reason, was irresistible to her feelings. When Camilla entered with the letter, she bashfully asked her if she wished to read it. Camilla eagerly cried, oh yes, but having finished it said, it's not such a letter as Edgar Mandelbeer would have written. I'm sure then, said Eugenia Coloring, I am sorry to have received it. Do you not observe every day, said Camilla, the distance, the delicacy of his behaviour to Indiana, though Miss Marglant says their marriage is fixed, how free from all distinction that might confuse her? This declaration on the contrary is so abrupt and from so new an acquaintance. Certainly then I won't answer it, said Eugenia, much discomposed. It had not struck me thus at first reading, but I see now all its impropriety. She then bid good night to Camilla, who concluding her the appropriated wife of Claremont had uttered her opinion without scruple. Eugenia now again read the letter, but not again with pleasure. She thought it forward and presumptuous, and the only gratification that remained upon her mind was a half-conscious, scarce admitted, and even to herself unacknowledged charm in a belief that she possessed the power to inspire an animated regard. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Mr. and Mrs. Tirold and Lavinia were at breakfast when Sir Hugh entered their parlour the next morning. Brother, he cried, I have something of great importance to tell you, which it is very fit my sister should hear too, for which reason I make no doubt, but my dear Lavinia's good sense will leave the room without waiting for a hint. Lavinia instantly retired. Oh, my dear brother, continued the baronet, do you know here's a young chap who appears to be a rather good sort of man, which is so much the worse, who has been falling in love with Eugenia? He then delivered the two letters to Mr. Tirold. Now the only thing that hurts me in this business, that this young man, who Miss Marglind calls a person of fashion, writes as well as Claremont himself would do, though that is what I shall never own to Eugenia, which I hope is no sin being all for her own sake, that is to say, for Claremont's. Mr. Tirold, after attentively reading the letters, gave them to his wife, and made many inquiries concerning their writer, and his acquaintance with Eugenia and Miss Marglind. Why, it was all brought about, said Sir Hugh, by their going to a ball and a public breakfast, which is a thing my little Camilla is not at all to blame for, because if nobody had put it in her head, she would not have known there was a thing of the kind. And indeed it was but natural in poor Lionel neither to set her a gog, the chief felt lying in the ascises, to which my particular objection is against the lawyers, who come into a town to hang and transport the poor, by way of keeping the peace, and then encourage the rich to make all the noise, and right they can, by their own junkettings, for which, however, being generally, I believe, pretty good scholars, I make no doubt, but they have their own reasons. I flatter myself, said Mrs. Tirold, scarce daining to finish the letters. Eugenia, young as she is, will need no counsel how to estimate a writer such as this. What must the man be, who, presuming upon his personal influence, ventures to claim her concurrence on an application to her friends, though he has seen her but twice, and knows her to be destitute of the smallest knowledge of his principles, his character, or his situation in life? Good lack! cried the baronet. What a prodigious poor head I must have! Here I could hardly sleep all night for thinking what a fine letter this jack-a-napes, which I shall make no more apology for calling him, had been writing, fearing it would cut up poor Claremont, in her opinion, for all his grand tour. Perfectly restored to ease, he now bade them good morning. But Mr. Tirold entreated him to stay till they had settled how to get rid of the business. My dear brother, he answered, I want no more help now, since I've got your opinion. That is, my sisters, which I take it for granted, is the same. I make no doubt, but Eugenia will pretty near have writ her foul copy by the time I get home, which Dr. Orkborn may overlook for her, to the end that this Mr. Upstart may have no more fault to find against it. They both desired to dine at Cleves that they might speak themselves with Eugenia. And how, said Mr. Tirold, with a strong secret emotion, how goes on Edgar with Indiana? Vastly well! Vastly well indeed! Not that I pretend to speak for myself, being rather too dull in these matters, owing to never entering upon them in the right season, as I intend to tell other young men doing the same. He then, in warm terms, narrated the accounts given him by Ms. Marglund of the security of the conquest of Indiana. Mr. Tirold fixed his hour for expecting the carriage, and the baronet desired that Lavinia should be of the party, because, he said, I see she has the proper discretion when she is wanted to go out of the way, which must be the same with Camilla and Indiana too today, as well as with young Mr. Edgar, for I don't think it prudent to trust such new beginners with everything that goes on till they get a little older. The anxiety of Mr. Tirold concerning Bellamy was now mingled with a cruel regret in relation to Mandelbert. Even his own upright conduct could scarce console him for the loss of his favourite hope, and he almost repented that he had not been more active in endeavouring to preserve it. All that passed in his mind was read and participated in by his partner, whose displeasure was greater, though her mortification could but be equal. That Edgar, said she, should have kept his heart wholly untouched, would less have moved my wonder. He has a peculiar though unconscious delicacy in his nature, which results not from insolence nor presumption, but from his own invariable and familiar exercise of every virtue and of every duty. The smallest deviation is offensive, and even the least inaccuracy is painful to him. Was it possible then to be prepared for such an election as this? He has disgraced my expectations. He has played the common part of a mere common young man, whose eye is his sole governor. My Georgiana, said Mr. Tirold, I am deeply disappointed. Our two eldest girls are but slightly provided for, and Eugenia is far more dangerously circumstanced, in standing so conspicuously apart as a prize to some adventurer. One of these three precious cares I had fondly concluded certain of protection and happiness, for whichever I might have bestowed upon Edgar Mandelberg, I should have considered as the most fortunate of her sex. Let us, however, rejoice for Indiana. No one can more need a protector, and, next to my own three girls, there is no one for whom I am so much interested. I grieve, however, for Edgar himself, whose excellent judgment will in time assert its rights, though passionate this period has set it aside. I am too angry with him for pity, said Mrs. Tirold, nor is his understanding of a class that has any claim to such lenity. I had often thought our gentle Avenia almost born to be his wife, and no one could more truly have deserved him. But the soft perfection of her character released me from any apprehension for her conduct, and almost all my solicitude devolves upon Camilla. For our poor Eugenia I had never indulged a hope of his choice, though that valuable unfortunate girl with every unearned defect about her, intrinsically merits him with all its advantages, his accomplishments, and his virtues. But to appreciate her, uninfluenced by pecuniary views, to which he is every way superior, was too much to expect from so young a man, my wishes, therefore, had guided him to our Camilla. That sweet, open, generous, inconsiderate girl, whose feelings are all virtues, but whose impulses have no restraints. I have not a fear for her when she can act with deliberation, but fear is almost all I have left when I consider her as led by the start of the moment. With him, however, she would have been the safest, and with him, next alone to her mother, the happiest of her sex. The kindest acknowledgments repaid this sympathy of sentiment, and they agreed that their felicity would have been almost too complete for the slower world if such an event had come to pass. Nevertheless, its failure, added Mrs. Tyrell, is almost incredible and wholly unpardonable. That Indiana should vanquish where Lavenia and Camilla have failed, I feel indignant at such a triumph of mere external, unintelligent beauty. Eugenia received her parents with the most bashful confusion. Yet they found upon conversing with her, it was merely from youthful shame, and not from any dangerous prepossession. The observations of Camilla had broken that spell, with which her first declaration of regard is apt to entangle unreflecting inexperience, and by teaching her to less value the votary, had made the conquest less an objection of satisfaction. She was gratified by the permission of her uncle to write her own answer, which is now produced. To Alfonso Bellamy, a squire. Sir, I am highly sensible to the honor of your partiality, which I regret it is not possible for me to deserve. Be not, therefore, offended, and still less suffer yourself to be afflicted, when I confess I have only my poor thanks to offer, and poor esteem to return for your unmerited goodness. Dwell not, sir, upon this disappointment, but receive my best wishes for your restored happiness, for never can I forget a distinction to which I have so little claim. Believe me, sir, you are very much obliged, and most grateful, humble servant, Eugenia Tirold. Mr. Tirold, who delighted to see how completely in her studies with Dr. Orkborn she had escaped any pedantry or affectation, and even preserved all the native humility of her artless character, returned her the letter with an affectionate embrace, and told her he could desire no alteration, but that of omitting the word grateful at the conclusion. Mrs. Tirold was far less satisfied. She wished it to be completely rewritten, protesting that a man who in all probability was a mere fortune-hunter would refer from so gentle a dismission encouragement rather than repulse. Sir Hugh said there was only one thing he desired to have added, which was a hint of a pre-engagement with the relation of her own. Eugenia at this colored and retreated, and Mrs. Tirold reminded the Baronet with some displeasure of his promise to guard the secret of his project. Sir Hugh, a little disturbed, said it never broke out from him but by accident, which he would take care should never get the upper hand again. He would not, however, consent to have the letter altered, which he said would be an affront to the learning of Eugenia, unless it were done by Dr. Orkborn himself, who, being her master, had a right to correct her first penmanship. Dr. Orkborn, being called upon, slightly glanced his eye over the letter but made no commendation, saying, I believe it will do very sufficiently, but I have only concerned myself with the progress of Mrs. Eugenia in the Greek and Latin languages. Anybody can teach her English. The fond parents finished their visit in full satisfaction with their irreproachable Eugenia, and with the joy of seeing their darling Camilla as happy and as disengaged as when she had left them. But Mandelbert had spent the day abroad and escaped, therefore, the observations with which they had meant to have investigated his sentiments. Indiana, with whom they conversed more than usual, and with the most scrutinising attention, offered nothing, either in manner or matter, to rescue his decision from their censure. Mrs. Tyrell, therefore, rejoiced at his absence, lesser coolness she knew not how to repress, should have led him to surmise her disappointment. Her husband besought her to be guarded. He had no right, he said, to the disposal of his heart, and Indiana, however he may find her inadequate to his future expectations, will not disgrace his present choice. She is beautiful, she is young, and she is innocent. This in early life is sufficient for felicity, and Edgar is yet too new in the world to be aware how much of life remains when youth is gone, and too unpracticed to foresee that beauty loses its power even before it loses its charms, and that the season of declining nature sighs deeply for the support which sympathy and intelligence can alone bestow. End of Book Two, Chapter Eight. Book Two, Chapter Nine of Camilla. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Sally McConnell. Camilla or A Picture of Youth by Fanny Burney. Book Two, Chapter Nine. An Explication. The visit which Camilla had designed this morning to Mrs. Albury, she had been induced to relinquish through a speech made to her by Lionel. You have done for yourself now, said he exultingly, so you may be governed by that scarecrow, Miss Marglund, at your leisure. Do you know you were not once mentioned again at the grove, neither by Miss Albury nor anybody else, and they all agreed Indiana was the finest girl in the world. Camilla, though of the same opinion with respect to Indiana, concluded Mrs. Albury was offended by her retreat and lost all courage for offering any apology. Edgar did not return to Cleaves till some time after the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Tirold, when he met Miss Marglund and the young ladies strolling in the park. Camilla, running to meet him, asked if he had restored the locket to the right owner. No, answered he, smiling, not yet. What can be done then? My half, Guinea, is gone, and to confess the truth, I have not another I can well spare. He made no immediate reply, but after speaking to the rest of the party, walked on towards the house. Camilla, in some perplexity, following him, exclaimed, Pray tell me what must I do? Indeed, I am quite uneasy. You would really have me give the locket to its rightful proprietor? To be sure I would. My commission, then, is soon executed, and taking a little chagrin case from his waistcoat pocket, he put it into her hand. What can you mean? Is there still any mistake? None but what you may immediately rectify, by simply retaining your own prize. Camilla, opening the case, saw the locket, and perceived under the crystal a light knot of braided hair. But while she looked at it, he hurried into the house. She ran after him, and insisted upon an explanation declaring it to be utterly impossible that the locket and the half-guinea should belong to the same person. You must not, then, he said, be angry if you find I have managed at last, but awkwardly. When I came to the library, the master of the raffle told me it was against all rule to refund a subscription. He stopped. The half-guinea you put in my hand, then, cried she, colouring, was your own. My dear Miss Camilla, there is no other occasion upon which I would have hazarded such a liberty. But as the money was for a charity, and as I had undertaken what I could not perform, I rather ventured to replace it than suffer the poor objects for whom it was destined to miss your kind attention. You have certainly done right, said she, feeling for her purse. But you must not, for that reason, make me a second time do wrong. You will not so much hurt me, replied he gravely. You will not reprove me as if I were a stranger, a mere common acquaintance. Where could the money have been so well bestowed? It is not you but those poor people who are in my debt. So many were the chances against your gaining the prize, that it was an event I had not even taken into consideration. I had merely induced you to leave the shop that you might not have the surprise of finding your name was not withdrawn. The rest was accident, and surely you will not punish me that I have paid to the poor the penalty of my own ill-wayed officiousness. Camilla put up her purse, but with some spirit said, There is another way to settle the matter which cannot hurt you. If I do not pay you my half-ginny, you must at least keep the fruits of your own. And she returned him the locket. And what, cried he, laughing, must I do with it? Would you have me wear it myself? Give it, answered she innocently, to Indiana. No, replied he, riddening and putting it down upon a table. But you may, if you believe her value, will be greater than your own for the hair of your two sisters. Camilla surprised, again looked at it, and recognized the hair of Levenia and Eugenia. And how in the world did you get this hair? I told them both the accident that had happened, and begged them to contribute their assistance to obtain your pardon. Is it possible? cried she with ferocity. You could add to all your trouble so kind a thought, and without a moment's further hesitation she accepted the prize, returning him the most animated planks, and flying to Eugenia to inquire further into the matter, and then to her uncle to show him her new acquisition. So Hugh, like herself, immediately said, But why did he not give it to Indiana? I suppose, said Eugenia, because Camilla had herself drawn the prize, and he had only added our hair to it. This perfectly satisfied the baronet, but Indiana could by no means understand why it had not been managed better. And Miss Margland, with much ill will, nourished a private opinion that the prize might perhaps have been her own, had not Mandelbert interfered. However, as there seemed some collusion which she could not develop, her conscience wholly acquitted her of any necessity to refund her borrowed half-guinea. Camilla, meanwhile, decorated herself with a locket, and had nothing in her position which gave her equal delight. Miss Margland now became internally less sanguine with regard to the preference of Edgar for Indiana, but she concealed from Sir Hugh a dart so unpleasant, through an unconquerable repugnance to acknowledge it possible she could have formed a wrong judgment. End of Book Two, Chapter Nine Book Two, Chapter Ten of Camilla This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Cath Gard Camilla or A Picture of Youth by Fanny Burney Chapter Ten A Panic Upon the ensuing Sunday, Edgar proposed that a party should be made to visit a new little cottage which he had just fitted up. This was agreed to, and as it was not above a mile from the Paris Church, Sir Hugh ordered that his low-garden faton should be in readiness, after the service, to convey himself a eugenia the the. The rest, as the weather was fine, desired to walk. They went to the church as usual in a coach and a chaise, which were dismissed as soon as they alighted. But before that period, eugenia with a sigh had observed that Melman, the young oxonian, was strolling the same way and had seen with a blush that Bellamy was by his side. The two gentlemen recognized them as they were crossing the churchyard. The oxonian bowed profoundly but stood aloof. Bellamy bowed also but immediately approached, and as Sir Hugh at that moment accidentally let fall his stick, darted forward to recover and present it to him. The baronet, from surprise at his quick motion, dropped his handkerchief in receiving his cane. This also Bellamy, attentively shaking, restored to him. And Sir Hugh, who could accept no civility unrequited, said, Sir, if you are a stranger, as I imagine not knowing your face, you are welcome to a place in my pew, provided you don't get a seat in a better, which I'm pretty much afraid you can't, mind being the best. The invitation was promptly accepted. Ms. Margland, always happy to be of consequence, was hastening to Sir Hugh to put him upon his guard, when a respectful offer from Bellamy to assist her down the steps, induced her to remit her design to a future opportunity. Any attentions from a young man were now so new to her as to seem a call upon her gratitude, nor had her charms ever been so attractive as to render them common. Edgar and Indiana, knowing nothing of his late declaration, thought nothing of his present admission. To Dr. Augborn he was an utter stranger, but Camilla had recourse to her fam to conceal a smile, and Eugenia was in the utmost confusion. She felt at a loss how to meet his eyes, and seated herself as much as possible out of his way. A few minutes after, looking up towards the gallery, she perceived in one of the furthest rows young Melmond, his eye fixed upon their pew. But withdrawn the instant he was observed, and his air the most melancholy and dejected. Again a half sigh escaped the tender Eugenia. How delicate, how elegant thought she is this retired behaviour. What refinement results from a true literary taste. Oh such be Clermont, if he resemble not this oxonian, I must be wretched for life. These ideas which unavoidably though unwillingly interrupted her devotion, were again broken in upon when the service was nearly over by the appearance of Lionel. He had ridden five miles to join them, merely not to be thought in leading strings by staying at Etherington to hear his father. Though the name and the excellence of the preaching of Mr Tyrold attracted to his church all strangers who had power to reach it, so vehement in early youth, is the eagerness to appear independent, and so general is the belief that all merit must be sought from a distance. The deeper understanding of Mandelbert rendered him superior to this common puerility. And though the preacher at Cleves Church was his own tutor, Dr Marchman, from whom he was scarce yet emancipated, he listened to him with reverence, and would have travelled any distance, and taken cheerfully any trouble, that would in the best and strongest manner have marked the respect with which he attended to his doctrine. Dr Marchman was a man of the highest intellectual accomplishments, uniting deep learning with general knowledge, and the graceful exterior of a man of the world, with the erudition and science of a fellow of a college. He obtained the esteem of the scholar wherever he was known, and caught the approbation of the most uncultivated wherever he was seen. When the service was over, Edgar proposed that Dr Marchman should join the party to the cottage, so Hugh was most willing, and they sauntered about the church while the doctor retired to the vestry to take off his gown. During this interval Eugenia, who had a passion for reading epitaphs and inscriptions, became so intently engaged in deciphering some old verses on an antique tablet that she perceived not when Dr Marchman was ready, nor when the party was leaving the church. And before any of the rest missed her, Bellamy suddenly took the opportunity of her being out of sight of all others, to drop on one knee, and passionately sees her hand exclaiming, oh madam, when hearing and approaching step he hastily arose, but parted not with her hand till he had pressed it to his lips. The astonished Eugenia, though at first all emotion was completely recovered by this action, his kneeling and his, oh madam, had every chance to affect her. But his kissing her hand she thought a liberty the most unpardonable. She resented it as an injury to Clermont that would risk his life should he ever know it, and a blot to her own delicacy, as irreparable as it was irremediable. Bellamy, who from her letter had augured nothing of hardness of heart, tenderly solicited her forgiveness. But she made him no answer, silent and defended, she walked away. And losing her timidity in her displeasure, went up to her uncle and whispered, Sir, the gentleman you invited into your pew is Mr Bellamy. The consternation of Sir Hugh was extreme. He had concluded him a stranger to the whole party because a stranger to himself. And the discovery of his mistake made him next conclude that he had risked a breach of the marriage, he so much desired by his own indiscretion. He took Eugenia immediately under his arm, as if fearful she might else be conveyed away for Scotland before his eyes, and hurrying to the church porch, called aloud for his faton. The faton was not arrived. Still more dismayed, he walked on with Eugenia to the railing round the churchyard, motioning with his left hand that no one should follow. Edgar, Lionel and Bellamy marched to the road, listening for the sound of horses. But they heard none, and the carriages of the neighbouring gentry, from which they might have hoped any assistants, had been driven away while they had waited for Dr Marchman. Meanwhile, the eyes of Eugenia again caught the young Oxonian, who was wandering around the churchyard. Neither was he unobserved by Indiana, who though she participated not in the turn of reasoning, or taste for the romantic, which awakened Eugenia so forcible a sympathy, was yet highly gratified by his apparent devotion to her charms, and had not Miss Marglund, narrowly watched and tutored her, would easily have been attracted from the cold subilities of Edgar, to the magnetism of animated admiration. In these circumstances, a few minutes appeared many hours to succue, and he presently exclaimed, There's no possibility of waiting here the whole day long, not knowing what may be the end. Then, calling to Dr Orkborn, he said to him in a low voice, My good friend, here's happened a sad thing. That young man I asked into my pew, for which I take proper shame to myself, is the same person that wanted to make Eugenia give up Clement Lindmere, her own natural relation, and mine into the bargain, for the sake of a stranger to us all, which I hold to be rather uncommentable, considering we know nothing about him. Though there's no denying his being handsome enough to look at, which, however, is no certainty of his making a good husband, so I'll tell you a mode I've thought of, which I think to be a pretty good one for parting them out of hand. Dr Orkborn, who had just taken out his tablets in order to enter some hints relative to his great work, begged him to say no more till he had finished his sentence. The baronet looked much distressed, but consented, and when he had done went on, Why, if you will hold Eugenia, I'll go up to the rest, and send them on to the cottage, and when they are gone, I shall get rid of this young chap. By telling him Eugenia and I want to be alone, Dr Orkborn assented, and Sir Hugh, advancing to the group, made his proposition, adding, Eugenia and I will overtake you as soon as the garden chair comes, which I dare say won't be long, Robert being so behindhand already. Then, turning to Bellamy, I am sorry, Sir, he said. I can't possibly ask you to stay with us, because of something my little niece and I have got to talk about, which we had rather nobody should hear being an affair of our own. But I thank you for your civility, Sir, in picking up my stick and my pocket hunkerchief, and I wish you a very good morning and a pleasant walk, which I hope you won't take ill. Bellamy bowed, and saying he, by no means intended to intrude himself into the company, slowly drew back. Edgar then pointed out a path through the fields that would considerably abridge the walk, if the ladies could manage to cross over a dirty lane on the other side of the churchyard. The baronet, who was in high spirits at the success of his scheme, declared that if there was a shortcut, they should not part company, for he could walk it himself. Edgar assured him it could not be more than half a mile, and offered him the use of his arm. No, no, my good young friend, answered he, smiling significantly. Take care of Indiana. I have got a good stick, which I hold to be worth any arm in Christendom, except for not being alive, so take care of Indiana, I say. Edgar bowed, but with a silence and gravity not unmixed with surprise, and so hew a little struck, hastily added, No, no, I mean no harm. No, sir, said Edgar, recovering. You can mean nothing but good when you give me so fair a charge. And he placed himself at the side of Indiana. Well, then, now, cried Sir Hugh, I'll marshal you all, and first for my little Camilla, who shall come to my proper share, for she's certainly the best companion of the whole, which I hope nobody will take for a slight, all of us not being the same, without any fault of our own. Dr. Orkborn shall keep to Eugenia, because if there should be a one-to-conversation, they can go over some of their lessons. Lionel shall take the care of Mrs. Marglund, it being always right for the young to help people a little stricken, and as for the odd one, Dr. Marchement, why he may join little Camilla and me, for us she's none of the steadiest, and I am none of the strongest, it is but fair the one over should be between us. Everybody professed obedience, but Lionel, who, with a loud laugh, called to Edgar to change partners. We are all under orders, answered he quietly, and I must not be the first to mutiny. Indiana smiled with triumph, but Mrs. Marglund, firing with anger, declared she wanted no help, and would accept none. Sir Hugh was now beginning an expostulation with his nephew, but Lionel preferred compliance to hearing it. Yet to obviate the ridicule which he was persuaded would follow such an acquiescence, he strided up to Mrs. Marglund with hasty steps, and dropping on one knee in the dust, seized and kissed her hand, but precipitately rising and shaking himself, called out, My dear mum, have you never a little clothesbrush in your pocket? I can't kneel again else. Mrs. Marglund wrathfully turned from him, and the party proceeded to a small gate at the back of the church, that opened to the lane mentioned by Edgar, over which, when the rest of the company had passed into a beautiful meadow, Lionel offered his hand for conducting Mrs. Marglund, who rejected it disdainfully. Then you will be sure to fall, said he. Not unless you do something to make me. You will be sure to fall, he repeated coolly. Much alarmed, she protested she would not get over before him. He absolutely refused to go first. The whole party stopped, and Bellamy, who had hitherto stood still and back, now ventured to approach, and in the most courteous manner, to offer his services to Mrs. Marglund. She looked victoriously around her, but as he had spoken in a low voice only said, Sir, to make him repeat his proposal more audibly, he complied, and the impertenences of Lionel rendered his civility irresistible. I am glad, she cried, there is still one gentleman left in the world, and accepted his assistance, though her persecutor whispered that her spark was a dead man, and strutted significantly away. Half frightened, half suspecting she was laughed at, she repeated softly to succue the menace of his nephew, begging that to prevent mischief, she might still retain Bellamy. Lord be good unto me, cried he. What amazing fools the boys of nowadays have grown, with all their learning and teaching and classics at their tongues end for nothing. However, not to set them together by the ears till they grow a little wiser, which I take it, won't be of one while, while you must, Ian, let this strange gentleman walk with you till Totherboy's further off. However, this one thing, pray mind, lowering his voice, keep him all to yourself. If he does, but so much as look at Eugenia, give him to understand it's a thing I shan't take very kind of him. Beckoning then to Dr. Oakbourne, he uneasily said, As I am now obliged to have that young fellow along with us, for the sake of preventing an affray about nobody knows what, which is the common reason of quarrels among those raw young fry, I beg you to keep a particular sharp lookout, that he does not take the opportunity to run off with Eugenia. The spirit of the baronet had overrated his strength, and he was forced to sit upon the lower step of a broad style at the other end of the meadow, while Ms. Marglund, who lent her tall thin figure against a five-bar gate, willingly obviated his solicitude about Eugenia, by keeping Bellamy in close and unabating conference with herself. A circumstance in the scenery before him now struck Dr. Oakbourne with some resemblance to a verse in one of Virgil's eclogues, which he thought might be happily applied to illustrate a passage in his own work. Taking out therefore his tablets, he begged Eugenia not to move, and wrote his quotation, which leading him on to some reflections upon the subject, soon drove his charge from his thoughts, and consigned him solely to his pencil. Eugenia willingly kept her place at his side. Offended by Bellamy, she would give him no chance of speaking with her, and the protection under which her uncle had placed her, she deemed sacred. Here they remained but a short time, when their ears received the shock of a prodigious roar from a ball in the field adjoining. Ms. Marglund screamed and hid her face with her hands. Indiana, taught by her lessons to nourish every fear as becoming, shrieked still louder, and ran swiftly away, deaf to all the Edgar who attended her could urge. Eugenia, to whom Bellamy instantly hastened, seeing the beast furiously make towards the gate, almost unconsciously accepted his assistance to accelerate her flight from its vicinity. While Dr. Orkborn, intent upon his annotations, calmly wrote on, sensible there were some disturbance, but determining to evade inquiring whence it arose, till he had secured what he meant to transmit to posterity from the treachery of his memory. Camilla, the least frightened, because the most senior to such sounds from the habits and the instruction of her rural life and education, adhered firmly to Sahu, who began blessing himself with some alarm, but whom Dr. Marchmont reassured by saying the gate was secured and too high for the bull to leap, even supposing it is a vicious animal. The first panic was still in its meridian, when Lionel, rushing past the beast, which he had secretly been tormenting, skipped over the gate with every appearance of terror, and called out, save yourselves all, Miss Marglund in particular, for here's a mad bull. A second astounding bellow put a stop to any question, and wholly checked the immediate impulse of Miss Marglund to ask why she was thus selected. She snatched her hands from her face, not doubting she should see her esquire soothingly standing by her side. But though internally surprised and shocked to find herself deserted, she gathered strength to run from the gate with a nimbleness of youth, and flying to the stile, regardless of Sahu and forgetting all her charges, scrambled over it, and run on from the noise without looking to the right or the left. Sahu, whom Lionel's information and Miss Marglund's pushing past him had extremely terrified, was now also getting over the stile, with the assistance of Dr. Marchman, ejaculating, Lord help us, what a poor race we are, no safety for us. If we only come out once in a dozen years, we must meet with a mad bull. He had, however, insisted that Camilla should jump over first, saying, There's no need of all of us being tossed, my dear girl, because of my slowness, which is no fault of mine, but of Robert's not being in the way, which must needs make the poor fellow unhappy enough when he hears of it, which no doubt I shall let him do according to his desserts. The other side of the stile brought them to the high road. Lionel, who had only wished to torment Miss Marglund, felt his heart smite him when he saw the fright of his uncle, and flew to acquaint him that he had made a mistake, for the bull was only angry, not mad. The unsuspicious baronet thanked him for his good news, and sat upon a bank till the party could be collected. This, however, was not soon to be done, the dispersion from the meadow, having been made in every possible direction. End of CHAPTER X Intent but upon running on had nearly reached the churchyard without hearkening to one word of the expostulating Mandelbeer, when, leaning over a tombstone on which she herself had lent while waiting for the carriage, she perceived the young Oxonian. An instinctive spirit of coquetry made her now increase her pace. He heard the rustling of female approach and looked up. Her beauty, heightened by her flight, which animated her complexion, while it displayed her fine form, seemed more than ever celestial to the enamored student, who darted forward from an impulse of irresistible surprise. Oh heaven! she cried panting and stopping as he met her. I shall die, I shall die! I am pursued by a mad bull. Edgar would have explained that all was safe, but Melman neither heard nor saw him. Oh, give me then! he cried emphatically. Give me the ecstasy to protect, to save you! His outspread arms shooed his intention to bear her away, but Edgar, placing himself between them, said, pardon me, sir, this lady is under my care. Oh, don't fight about me, don't quarrel! cried Indiana with an apprehension half simple, half affected. No, madame! answered Melman, respectfully retreating. I know too, too well. My little claim in such a dispute prevent me, however, to assist you, Mr. Mandelber, in your search of refuge, and deign, madame, to endure me in your sight till this alarm passes away. Indiana, by no means insensible to this language, looked with some elation at Edgar to see how he bore it. Edgar was not surprised. He had already observed the potent impression made by the beauty of Indiana upon the Oxonian, and was struck, in defiance of its romance and suddenness, with its air of sincerity. He only therefore gently answered that there was not the least cause of fear. Oh, how can you say so? said Indiana. How can you take so little interest in me? At least, at least! cried Melman, trembling with eagerness, condescent to accept a double guard. Refuse not, Mr. Mandelber, to suffer any attendance. Mandelber, a little embarrassed, answered, I have no authority to decide for Miss Lindmer, but certainly I see no occasion for my assistance. Melman fervently clasped his hands and exclaimed, Do not, do not, madame, command me to leave you till all danger is over. The little heart of Indiana beat high with triumph. She thought Mandelber jealous. Miss Marglin had often told her there was no sureer way to quicken him, and, even independently of this idea, the spirit, the ardor, the admiration of the Oxonian, had a power upon her mind that needed no auxiliary for delighting it. She curtsied her consent, but declared she would never go back the same way. They proceeded, therefore, by a little round to the high road, which led to the field in which the party had been dispersed. Indiana was full of starts, little shrieks, and palpitations. Every one of which rendered her, in the eyes of the Oxonian, more and more captivating. And, while Edgar walked gravely on, reflecting with some uneasiness, upon being thus drawn in to suffer the attendance of a youth, so nearly a stranger, upon a young lady actually under his protection, Melman was continually ejaculating in return to her perpetual apprehensions, what lovely timidity, what bewitching softness, what feminine, what beautiful delicacy, how sweet in terror, how soul-piercing in alarm. These exclamations were nearly enchanting to Indiana, whose only fear was, lest they should not be heard by Edgar. And, whenever they ceased, whenever a pause and respectful silence took their place, new starts, fresh palpitations, and designed false steps again called them forth, while the smile with which she repaid their enthusiastic speaker was fuel to his flame, but poison to his peace. They had not proceeded far when they were met by Miss Margland, who, in equal trepidation from anger and from fear, was still making the best of her way from the bellowing of the bull. Edgar inquired for Sir Hugh and the rest of the party, but she could speak only of Lionel, his insolence and his ill usage, protesting nothing, but her regard for Indiana could induce her to live a moment longer under his uncle's roof. But where, again cried Edgar, where is Sir Hugh and where are the ladies? Tossed by the bull, answered she, pettishly fraught, I know, I did not choose to stay and be tossed myself, and a person like Mr. Lionel can soon make such a beast point at one if he takes it into his humor. Edgar then begged they might hasten to their company, but Miss Margland positively refused to go back, and Indiana, always ready to second any alarm, declared, she should quite sink with fright if they went within a hundred yards of that horrid field. Edgar still pleaded that the baronet would expect them, but Melman in softer tones spoke of fears, sensibility, and dangers, and Edgar soon found he was talking to the winds. All that now remained to prevent further separations was that Edgar should run on to the party and equate them that Miss Margland and Indiana would wait for them upon the high road. Melman, meanwhile, felt in paradise. Even the presence of Miss Margland could not restrain his rapture upon a causality that gave him such a charge, though it forced him to forbear making the direct and open declaration of his passion with which his heart was burning, and his tongue quivering. He attended them both with the most fervent respect, evidently very gratifying to the object of his adoration, though not noticed by Miss Margland, who was wholly absorbed by her own provocations. Edgar soon reached the bank by the roadside upon which the baronet, Dr. Marchman, Lionel, and Camilla were seated. Lord, help us! exclaimed Sir Hugh aghast at his approach. If here is not young Mr. Edgar without Indiana, this is a thing I could never have expected from you, young Mr. Edgar, that you should leave her. I don't know where, and come without her. Edgar assured him she was safe and under the care of Miss Margland, but that neither of them could be prevailed with to come farther. He had therefore advanced to inquire after the rest of the party, and to arrange where they should all assemble. Oh, you have done very right, then, my dear Mr. Edgar, as you always do, as far as I can make out when I come to the bottom. And now I am quite easy about Indiana. But as to Eugenia, what Dr. Orkborn has done with her is more than I can devise, unless, indeed, they are got to studying some of their Greek verbs and so forgot us all, which is likely enough. Only I had rather they had taken another time, not much caring to stay here longer than I can help. Edgar said he would make a circuit in search of them, but first, addressing Camilla, you alone, he cried with an approving smile, have remained thus quiet, while all else have been scampering apart, making confusion worse confounded. I have lived to completely in the country to be afraid of cattle, she answered, and Dr. Marchmont assured me there was no danger. You can listen, then, even when you are alarmed, said he expressively, to the voice of reason. Camilla raised her eyes and looked at him, but dropped them again without making any answer. Can you, she thought, have been pleading it in vain, how I wonder at Indiana! He then set out to seek Eugenia, recommending the same office to Lionel by another route. But Lionel no sooner gathered where Ms. Marglin might be met with, then his repentance was forgotten, and he quitted everything to encounter her. Edgar spent near half an hour in his search without the smallest success. He was then seriously uneasy and returning to the party, when a countryman, to whom he was known, told him he had seen Ms. Eugenia Tyrold with a very handsome fine-town gentleman going into a farmhouse. Edgar flew to the spot and, through a window as he advanced, perceived Eugenia seated and bellamy kneeling before her. Amazed and concerned, he abruptly made his way into the apartment. Bellamy rose in the utmost confusion, and Eugenia, starting and colouring, caught Edgar by the arm, but could not speak. He told her that her uncle and the whole company were waiting for her in great anxiety. And where, where, cried she, are they? I have been in agonies about them all, and I could not prevail. I could not. This gentleman said the risk was so great. He would not suffer me, but he has sent for a chase, though I told him I had a thousand times rather hazarded my life amongst them and with them than save it alone. They are all perfectly safe, nor has there ever been any danger. I was told, I was assured, said Bellamy, that a mad bull was running wild about the country, and I thought it therefore advisable to send for a chase from the nearest inn, that I might return this young lady to her friends. Edgar made no answer, but offered his arm to conduct Eugenia to her uncle. She accepted it, and Bellamy attended on her other side. Edgar was silent the whole way. The attitude in which he had surprised Bellamy by assuring him of the nature of his pretensions had awakened doubts the most alarming of the destination in view for the chase which he had ordered, and he believed that Eugenia was either to have been beguiled or betrayed into a journey the most remote from the home to which she belonged. Eugenia increased his suspicions by the mere confusion which deterred her from removing them. Bellamy had assured her she was in the most imminent personal danger, and had hurried her from field to field with an idea that the dreaded animal was in full pursuit. When carried, however, into the farmhouse, she lost all apprehension for herself in fears for her friends, and insisted upon sharing their fate. Bellamy, who immediately ordered a chase, then cast himself at her feet to entreat she would not throw away her life by so rash a measure. Exhausted from her lameness, she was forced to sit still, and such was their situation at the entrance of Edgar. She wished extremely to explain what had been the object of the solicitation of Bellamy and to clear him as well as herself from any further surmises, but she was ashamed to begin the subject. Edgar had seen a man at her feet, and she thought herself it was a cruel injury to Claremont, though she knew not how to refuse it forgiveness since it was merely to supplicate she would save her own life. Bellamy, therefore, was the only one who spoke, and his unanswered observations contributed but little to enliven the walk. When they came within sight of the party, the baronet was again seized with the extremist dismay. Why, now, what's this? cried he. Here's nothing but blunders. Praise, sir, who gave you the authority to take my niece from her own tutor? First, so I may call him, though more properly speaking, he came amongst us to be mine, which, however, is no affair but of our own. Sir, answered Bellamy, advancing and bowing, I hope I have had the happiness of rather doing service than, mischief. I saw the young lady upon the point of destruction, and I hastened her to a place of security from whence I had ordered a post-chase to convey her safe to your house. Yes, my dear uncle, said Eugenia, recovering from her embarrassment, I have occasioned this gentleman infinite trouble, and though Mr. Mandelbeer assures us there was no real danger, he thought there was, and therefore I must always hold myself to be greatly obliged to him. Well, if that's the case, I must be obliged to him, too, which, to tell you the truth, is not a thing I am remarkably fond of having happened. But where's Dr. Arkborn? I hope he's come to no harm by his not shooing himself. At the moment of terror, said Eugenia, I accepted the first offer of assistance, concluding we were all hurrying away at the same time, but I saw Dr. Arkborn no more afterwards. I can't say that was over and above kind of him, nor careful, neither, cried Sir Hugh, considering some particular reasons. However, where is he now? Nobody could say. No one had seen or observed him. Why then, ten to one, poor gentleman, exclaimed the baronet, but he is the very person himself who's tossed, while we are all of us running away for nothing. A suspicion now occurred to Dr. Marchmont, which led him to return over the style into the field where the confusion had begun, and there, on the exact spot where he had first taken out his tablets, calmly stood Dr. Arkborn, looking now upon his writing, now up to the sky, but seeing nothing anywhere from intense absorption of thought upon the illustration he was framing. Awaken from his reverie by the doctor, his first recollection was of Eugenia. He had not doubted her remaining quietly by his side, and the moment he looked round and missed her he felt considerable compunction. The good doctor, however, assured him all were safe and conducted him to the group. So here you are, said the baronet, and no more tossed than myself, for which I am sincerely thankful, though I can't say I think you have taken much care of my niece, nobody knowing what might have become of her if it had not been for that strange gentleman that I never saw before. He then formally placed Eugenia under the care of Dr. Marchmont. Dr. Arkborn peaked by this transfer sullenly followed, and now gave to her, pertinaciously, his undivided attention. Drawn by a total revulsion of ideas from the chain of thinking that had led him to composition he relinquished his annotations in resentment of this dismission, when he might have pursued them uninterruptedly without neglect of other avocations.