 6 CHAPTER XI. The following morning Mrs. Mitten came with eager intelligence that the raffle was fixed for one o'clock and, without any scruple, accompanied the party to the shop, addressing herself to every one of the set as to a confirmed and intimate friend. But her chief supporter was Mr. Dennell, whose praise of her was the vehicle to his censure of his sister-in-law. That lady was the person in the world whom he most feared and disliked. He had neither spirit for the splendid manner in which she lived nor parts for the vivacity of her conversation. The first his love of money made him condemn as extravagant, and the latter his self-love made him hate, because he could not understand. He persuaded himself, therefore, that she had more words than meaning, and extolled all the obvious truths uttered by Mrs. Mitten, to shoo his superior admiration of what, being plain and incontrovertible, he dignified with the panagyric of being sensible. When they came upon the pantiles they were accosted by Mr. Dubster, who, having solemnly asked them, one by one how they all did, joined Mrs. Mitten, saying, Well, I can't pretend as I'm oversorry you've got neither of those two comical gentlemen with you that behave so free to me for nothing. I don't think it's particular agreeable being treated so. Though it's a thing I don't much mind, it's not worth fretting about. Well, don't say any more about it, cried Mrs. Mitten, endeavoring to shake him off. I dare say you did something to provoke him, or they're too gentile to have taken notice of you. Me provoke them? Why, what did I do? I was just like a mere lamb, as one may say, at the very time that young captain fell abusing me so, calling of me a little dirty fellow with no provocation? If I'm little or big I don't see that it's any business of his, and as to dirty I'd put on all clean linen but the very day before, as the people can tell you at the end, so the whole was a mere piece of falsehood from one end to the other. Well, what do you talk about it for any more? You should never take anything ill of a young gentleman. It's only aggravating him so much the worse. Aggravating him, Mrs. Mitten, why, what need I'm on that? Do you think I'm to put up with his talking of caning me and such like, because of his being a young gentleman? Not I, I assure you, I'm no such person, and if once I feel his switch across these here shoulders, it won't be so well for him. The party now entered the shop, where the raffle was to be held. Edgar was already there. He had no power to keep away from any place where he was sure to behold Camilla, and a raffle brought to his mind the most tender recollections. He was now with Lord Olerny, in whose candor and benevolence of character he took great delight, and with whom he had joined Lady Isabella Erby, who had been drawn as a quiet spectatrist to the sight by a friend who, having never seen the humours of a raffle, had entreated through her means to look on. He languished to see Camilla presented to this lady, in whose manners and conversation, dignity and simplicity were equally blended. While he was yet though absently conversing with them, Lord Olerny pointed out Camilla to Lady Isabella. I have taken notice of her already at the rooms, answered her ladyship, and I have seldom, I think, seen a more interesting young creature. The character of her continence, said Lord Olerny, strikes me very peculiarly, to so intelligent yet so unhackneyed, so full of meaning yet so artless that while I look at her I feel myself involuntarily anxious for her welfare. I don't think she seems happy, said Lady Isabella. Do you know who she is, my Lord? Edgar, here, with difficulty, suppressed a sigh. Not happy, thought he. Ah, wherefore, what can make Camilla unhappy? I understand she's a niece of Sir Hugh Tyrold, answered his lordship, a Yorkshire baronet. She is here with an acquaintance of mine, Mrs. Arlbury, who is one of the first women I have ever known for wit and capacity. She has an excellent heart, too, though her extraordinary talents and her carelessness of opinion make it sometimes, but very unjustly, doubt it. Edgar heard this with much pleasure, a good word from Lord Olerny quieted many fears. He hoped he had been unnecessarily alarmed. He determined, in future, to judge her more favourably. I should be glad, continued his lordship, to hear this young lady were either well established or returned to her friends without becoming an object of public notice. A young woman is nowhere so rarely respectable or respected as at these water-drinking places if seen at them either long or often. The search of pleasure and dissipation at a spot consecrated for restoring health to the sick, the infirm, and the suffering carries with it an air of egotism that does not give the most pleasant idea of the feeling and disposition. Yet may not the sick, my lord, be rather amended than hurt by the sight of gaiety around them? Oh yes, my dear lady Isabella, and the effect, therefore, I believe to be beneficial. But as this is not the motive why the young and the gay seek these spots, it is not here they will find themselves most honoured. And the mixture of pain and illness with splendour and festivity is so unnatural that probably it is to that we must attribute that a young woman is nowhere so hardly judged. If she is without fortune, she is thought to be a female adventurer seeking to sell herself for its attainment. If she is rich, she is supposed a willing dupe ready for a snare and only looking about for an ensnareur. And yet young women seldom, I believe my lord, merit this severity of judgment. They come but hither in the summer as they go to London in the winter, simply in search of amusement without any particular purpose. True, but they do not weigh what their observers weigh for them. That the search of public recreation in the winter is from long habit permitted without censure, but that the summer has not as yet prescription so positively in its favour, and those who, after meeting them all the winter at the opera, and all the spring at Ronele, hear of them all the summer at Sheldonham, Tumbridge, etc., and all the autumn at Bath are apt to inquire, when is the season for home? Ah, my lord, how wide are the poor inconsiderate little flutterers from being aware of such a question! How necessary to youth and thoughtlessness is the wisdom of experience! Why does she not come this way, thought Edgar? Why does she not gather from these mild, yet understanding moralist instructions that might benefit all her future life? There is nothing, said Lord O'Learney, I more sincerely pity than the delusion surrounding young females. The strongest admirers of their eyes are frequently the most austere satirists of their conduct. The entrance of Lord Newford, Sir Theophilus Gerard, and Sir Sedley Clarendale all noisily talking and laughing together interrupted any further conversation. The two former no sooner saw Camilla and perceived neither Lady Alothea Selmore nor Mrs. Burlington than they made up to her, and Sir Sedley, who now found she was completely established in the Bantan, felt something of pride mixed with pleasure in publicly availing himself of his intimacy with her. And something like interest mixed with curiosity in examining if Edgar were struck with her ready attention to him. On Edgar, however, it made not the slightest impression. While Sir Sedley had appeared to him a mere fob, he had thought it degraded her. But how he regarded him as her preserver, it seemed both natural and merited. Sir Sedley, not aware of this reasoning, was somewhat peaked, and taking him to another part of the shop, whispered, I am horribly vapored. Do you know why I have some thoughts of trying, that little girl? Do you think one could make anything of her? Oh! What do you mean?" cried Edgar with sudden alarm. Sir Sedley, a little flattered, affectionately answered, Oh! if you have any serious designs that way, incontestably I won't interfere. Me! cried Edgar, surprised and offended. Believe me, no, I have all my life considered her as my sister. Sir Sedley saw this was spoken with effort and negligently replied, Nay! you are just at the first apaca for marrying from inclination, but you are right not to perform so soon the funeral honors of liberty. Tis what you may do at any time, so many girls want establishments that a man of sixty can just as easily get a wife of eighteen as a man of one and twenty. The only inconvenience in that sort of alliance is that though she begins with submitting to her venerated husband as prettily as to her papa, she is terribly apt to have a knack of runaway from him afterwards with equal facility. That is rather a discouraging article, I confess, cried Edgar, for the tardy votaries of Hyman. Oh! No! Tis no great matter, answered he, patting his snuff box. We are impenetrable in the extreme to those sorts of grievances nowadays. We are at such prodigious expense of sensibility and public for tales of sorrow told about pathetically at a full board, that if we suffered much for our private concerns to boot, we must always meet one another with tears in our eyes. We never weep now, but at dinner or at some diversion. Lord Newford, pulling him by the arm, called out, Come, Clary, what art about, man? We want thee. Come, Clary, don't shirk, Clary, cried Sir Theophilus. I can't possibly patronize this shirking. And they halt him to a corner of the shop, where all three resume their customary laughing whispers. You will not, perhaps, suspect, Lady Isabella, said Lord O'Learney, smiling, that one of that triumferent is by no means deficient in parts, and can even, when he desires it, be extremely pleasing. Your Lordship judges right, I confess. I had not indeed done him such justice. See, then, said his Lordship, how futile an animal is man without some decided character and principle. He's everything by turns, and nothing long. Wise, foolish, virtuous, vicious, active, indolent, prodigal, and avaricious. No contrast is too strong for him, while guided but by accident or impulse. This gentleman, also, in common with the rest of his tonnish brethren, is now daily, though unconsciously, hoarding up a world of unprepared for mortification, by not foreseeing that the more he is celebrated in his youth, for being a leader of the ton and the man of the day, the earlier he will be regarded as a creature out of date. An old bow and a fine gentleman of former times, but tis by reverses such as these that folly and impropriety pay their penalties. We might spare all our anger against the vanity of the beauty or the conceit of the coxcomb. Are not wrinkles always in waiting to punish the one an age without honor to chastise and degrade the other? All the rafflers were now arrived except Mrs. Burlington, who was impatiently expected. Lady Alothea Selmore had already sent a proxy to throw for her in her own woman, much to the dissatisfaction of most part of the company. A general rising and inquietude to look out for Mrs. Burlington gave Edgar at length an opportunity to stand next to Camilla. How I grieve, he cried, you should not know Lady Isabella Irby. She seems to me a model for a woman of rank in her manners and a model for a woman of every station in her mind. The world, I believe, could scarce have tempted her to so offensive a mark of superiority as has just been exhibited by Lady Alothea Selmore, who has ingeniously discovered a method of being signalized as the most important person out of twenty by making herself nineteen enemies. I wonder, said Camilla, she can think the chance of the earrings worth so high a price. A footman in a splendid livery now entering inquired for Miss Tyrold. She was pointed out to him by Major Sirwood and he delivered her a letter from Mrs. Burlington. The contents were to entreat she would throw for that lady who is in the midst of Ackenside's pleasures of the imagination and could not tear herself away from them. Camilla blushed excessively in proclaiming she was chosen Mrs. Burlington's proxy. Edgar saw with tenderness her modest confusion and with a pleasure the most touching read the favorable impression it made upon Lord O'Learney and Lady Isabella. This seemed an opportunity irresistible for venting his fears and cautions about Mrs. Burlington and taking the bustling period in which the rafflers were arranging the order and manner of throwing, he said in a low and diffident tone of voice, you have committed to me an important and I fear an important office. Yet while I hold I cannot persuade myself not to fulfill it, though I know that to give advice which opposes sentiment and feeling is repugnant to independence and to delicacy. Such therefore I do not mean to enforce but merely to offer hints, intimidations, and observations that without controlling may put you upon your guard. Camilla affected by this unexpected address could only look her desire for an explanation. The lady, he continued, whom you are presently to represent, appears to be uncommonly engaging. Oh indeed she is, she is attractive, gentle, amiable. She seems also all ready to have caught your affection. Who could have withheld it that had seen her as I have seen her. She is as unhappy as she is lovely. I have heard of your first meeting with as much pleasure in the presence of mind it called forth on one side, as with doubt and perplexity upon every circumstance I can gather of the other. If you knew her you would find it impossible to hold any doubts impossible to resist admiring, compassionating, and loving her. If my knowledge of her bribed an interest in her favor without convincing me she deserved it, I ought rather to regret that you have not escaped falling into such a snare than that I could have escaped it myself. I believe her free, nay incapable of any ill, cried Camilla warmly, though I dare not assert she is always coolly upon her guard. Do not let me hurt you, said Edgar gently. I have seen how lovely she is in person and how pleasing in manners. She is so young that were she in a situation less exposed want of steadiness or judgment might by a little time be set right, but here there is surely much to fear from her early possession of power. Oh, that some happier chance had brought about such peculiar intercourse for you with Lady Isabella Urby. There to the pleasure of friendship might be added the modesty of retired elegance and the security of established respectability. And may not this yet happen with Mrs. Burlington? Lady Isabella, though still young, is not in the extreme youth of Mrs. Burlington. A few more years, therefore, may bring equal discretion. And as she has already every other good quality, you may hear after equally approve her. Do you think, then, said Edgar, half-smiling, that the few years of difference in their age were spent by Lady Isabella in the manner they are now spent by Mrs. Burlington? Do you think she paved the way for her present dignified, though unassuming, character by permitting herself to be surrounded by professed admirers, by letting their size reach her ears, by suffering their eyes to fasten with open rapture on her face, and by holding it sufficient not to suppress such liberties so long as she does not avowedly encourage them? Camilla was startled. She had not seen her conduct in this light, yet her understanding refused to deny that it might bear this interpretation. Charmed with the candor of her silence, Edgar continued, How wide from all that is open to similar comment is the carriage and behavior of Lady Isabella. How clear, how transparent, how free from all conjecture of blemish. They may each indeed essentially be equally innocent, and your opinion of Mrs. Burlington corroborates the impression made by her beautiful continence, yet how far more highly is the true feminine character preserved, where surmise is not raised, than where it can be parried. Think but of these two ladies and mark the difference. Lady Isabella, addressed only where known, followed only because loved, sees no adulators in circling her, for adulation would alarm her. No admirers paying her homage, for such homage would offend her. She knows she has not only her own innocence to guard, but the honor of her husband. Whether she is happy with him or not, this deposit is equally sacred. He stopped for Camilla again started. The irrepressible frankness of her nature revolted against denying how much this last sentence struck her. And she ingeniously exclaimed, Oh, that this most amiable young creature were but more aware of this duty. Oh, my dear Camilla, cried Edgar with energy, since you feel and own, and with you that is always one, this baneful deficiency drop, or at least suspend an intercourse too hazardous to be indulged with propriety. Be what she may be some time hence ere you contract further intimacy. At present, unexperienced and unsuspicious, her dangers may be yours. You are too young for such a risk. Fly, fly from it, my dear Miss Camilla, as if the voice of your mother were calling out to caution you. Camilla was deeply touched, an interest so warm in her welfare was soothing, and the name of her mother rendered it awful. But thus united it appeared to her more strongly than ever to announce itself as merely fraternal. She could not suppress a sigh, but he attributed it to the request he had urged, and with much concern at it, what I have asked of you, then, is too severe. Again irresistibly sighing, yet, collecting all her force to conceal the secret cause, she answered, if she is thus exposed to danger, if her situation is so perilous, ought I not rather stay by, and help to support her, than by abandoning, perhaps contribute to the evil you think awaiting her? Generous Camilla, cried he, melted into tender admiration. Who can oppose so kind a design, so noble a nature? No more could be said, for all preliminaries had been settled, and the throwing being arranged to take place alphabetically, she was soon summoned to represent Mrs. Burlington. From this time, Edgar could speak to her no more, even the major could scarcely make way to her. The two men of the town would not quit her, and, srs. Clarendale appeared openly devoted to her. Edgar looked on with the keenest emotion, the proof he had just received that her intrinsic worth was in its first state of excellence had come home to his heart. And the fear of seeing her altered and spoiled by the flatteries and dangers which environed her, with his wavering belief in her engagement with Major Sirwood, made him more wretched than ever. But when, some time after, she was called upon to throw for herself, the recollection that from the former raffle her half-ginny, even when the prize was in her hand, had been voluntarily withdrawn to be bestowed upon a poor family, so powerfully affected him that he could not rest in the shop. He was obliged to breathe a freer air and to hide his disturbance by a retreat. Her throw was the highest the dice had yet afforded. A. Ms. Williams alone came after her, whose throw was the lowest. Ms. Camilla Tyrol, therefore, was proclaimed to be the winner. This second testimony of the favor of fortune was a most pleasant surprise to Camilla, and made the room resound with felicitations, till they were interrupted by a violent quarrel upon the pantiles, whence the voice of McDursey was heard, hollowing out, Don't talk, I say, sir, don't presume to say a word! And that of Mr. Dubster angrily answering he would talk as long as he thought proper whether it was agreeable or not. Sir Sedley advanced to the combatants in order to help on the dispute, but Edgar, returning at the sound of high words, took the end sign by the arm and prevailed with him to accompany him up and down the pantiles. While Mrs. Mitten ran to Mr. Dubster, and pulling him into the shop, said, Mr. Dubster, if I'm not ashamed of you, how can you forget yourself so, talking to gentlemen at such a rate? While what should hinder me, cried he, do you think I shall put up with everything as I used to do when you first knew me, and we used to meet at Mr. Tipton's, the Tallow Chandlers and Shug Lane? No, Mrs. Mitten, nor no such thing. I'm turned gentlemen myself, now as much as the best of them, for I have nothing to do but just what I choose. I protest, Mr. Dubster, cried Mrs. Mitten, taking him into a corner. You're enough to put a saint into a pet. How come you to think of talking of Mr. Tipton here before such gentle folks? And where's the use of telling everybody he's a Tallow Chandler? And as to my meaning with you there, once or so, in a way, I desire you'll mention it no more for it's so long ago, I have no recollection of it. No, why don't you remember, fiddle-thaddle, what's the good of ripping up old stories about nothing when you're with gentile people you must do as I do, never talk about business at all? Dick Dursey, now entered the shop, appeased by Edgar from shooing any further wrath, but wantonly inflamed by Sir Sedley in a dispute upon the passion of love. Do you always, my dear friend, said the baronet, fall in love at first sight? To be sure I do. If a man makes a scrupula that it's ten to one, but he's disappointed of doing it at all, because after two or three second sights the danger is you may spy out some little flaw in the dear angel that takes off the zest and hinders you to the longest day you have to live. Profoundly cogitated that. You think then, my vast dear sir, the passion had more conveniently bekindled first, that the flaws may appear after to cure it? No sir, no, when a man's once in love those flaws don't signify, because he can't see them, or if he could at least he'd scorn to own them. Live forever, brave Ireland, exclaimed Mrs. Arlberry, what cold phlegmatic Englishman would have made a speech of so much gallantry. As to an Englishman, said McDursey, you must never mind what he says about the lady, because he's too sheepish to speak out. He's just as often in love as his neighbors, only he's so shy he won't own it till he sees if the young fair one is as much in love as himself. But a generous Irishman never scruples to proclaim the girl of his heart, though we should have twenty in a year. What is that perfectly delicate, my dear sir, to the several docenas? Perfectly, your Irishman is the delicous man upon the earth to the fair sex, for he always talks of their cruelty if they are never so kind. He knows every honest heart will pity him if it's true, and if it isn't, he is too much a man of honour not to complain all one. He knows how agreeable it is to the dear creatures, they always take it for a compliment. Whether avowedly or clandestinely, said Mrs. Arlbury, still you are all in our chains, even when you play the tyrant with us we occupy all your thoughts, and if you had not the skill to make us happy, your next delight is to make us miserable. For though now and then you can contrive to hate, you can never arrive at forgetting us. I could as soon contrive to turn the world into a potato. There's nothing upon earth, nothing under the whole firmament I value but beauty. A cheerful glass, then, said Sir Sedley, you think hardly and torrible? A cheerful glass, sir, do you take me for a milksup? Do you think I don't know what it is to be a man? A cheerful glass, sir, is the first pleasure in life, the most convival, the most exhilarating, the most friendly joy of a true honest soul. What were existence without it? I should choose to be off in half an hour, which I should only make so long not to shock my friends. Well, the glass is not what I patronize, said Sir Theophilus. It hips me so consumably the next day. No, I can't patronize the glass. Not patronize wine, cried Lord Newford. Oh, hang it! Oh, curse it! That's too bad! Offee! But hunting! I'll think of that, little Offee. Too obstreperous. It rouses one at such awkward hours. No, I can't patronize hunting. Hunting! cried McDursey. Oh, it leaves everything behind it, tis the thing upon the earth for which I have the truest taste. I know nothing else that is not a bubble to it. A man is no more in my estimation than a child or a woman that don't enjoy it. Cards, then, said Sir Steadly, you reprobrate. And it dies, cried Lord Newford. And bedding, cried Sir Theophilus. Why, what do you take me for, gentlemen? replied McDursey hotly. Do you think I have no soul? No fire? No feeling? Do you suppose me a stone? A block? A lump of lead? I scorn such suspicions. I don't hold them worth answering. I am none of that torpid, morbid, drowsy tribe. I hold nobody to have an idea of life that has not rattled in his own hand the dear little box of promise. What ecstasy not to know if, in two seconds, one may int be worth ten thousand pounds, or else without a far thing. How it puts one on the rack. There is nothing to compare with it. I would not give up that moment to be sovereign of the East Indies. No, not if the West were to be put in the bargain. All these things, said Mr. Dennell, are fit for nothing but to bring a man to ruin. The main chance is all that is worth thinking of. Tis money makes the mare to go, and I don't know anything that's to be done without it. Money, exclaimed McDursey, tis the thing under heaven I hold in the most disdain. It won't give me a moment's concern never to see its color again. I vow solemnly if it were not just for the pleasures of the table and a jolly glass with a friend, and a few horses in one's stable, and a little ready cash in one's purse for odd uses, I should not care if the mint were sunk under the ground to-morrow. Money is what I most despise of all. That's talking out of reason, said Mr. Dennell, walking out of the shop with great disgust. Why, if I was to speak, said Mr. Dubster, encouraged to come forward by an observation so much to his own comprehension and taste as the last. I can't but say I think the same. For money, keep your distance, sir, cried the fiery end-sign, keep your distance, I tell you. If you don't wish, I should say something to you pretty cutting. This broke up the party, which else, the lounging spirit of the place, and the general consent by which all description of characters seemed determined to occupy any spot whatever to avoid a moment's abode in their lodgings, would still have detained till the dinner-hour had forced to their respective homes. To suppress all possibility of further dissension, Mrs. Arlberry put Miss Dennell under the care of McDursey and bid him attend her towards Mount Pleasant. Mr. Dubster, having stared after them sometime in silence, called out, keep my distance. I can't but say but what I think that young captain, the rudest young gentleman I ever happened to lie upon. However, if he don't like me, I shan't take it much to heart. I can't pretend to say I like him any better. So he may choose. It's much the same to me. It breaks no squares. Edgar, almost without knowing it, followed Camilla, but he could displace neither the baronet nor the major, who, one with a look of open exaltation, and the other with an air of determined perseverance, retained each his post at her side. He saw that all her voluntary attention was to sir Sedley, and that the major had none but what was called for and inevitable. Was this indifference or security? Was she seeking to obtain in the baronet a new obdourer, or to excite jealousy through his means in an old one? Silent, he walked on, perpetually exclaiming to himself, can it be Camilla, the ingenious, the artless Camilla? I find it so difficult to fathom, to comprehend, to trust. He had not spirits to join Mrs. Albury, though he lamented he had not at once visited her, since it was now awkward to take such a step without an invitation, which she seemed by no means disposed to offer him. She internally resented the little desire he had ever manifested for her acquaintance, and they had both too much penetration not to perceive how wide either was from being the favorite of the other. End of CHAPTER XI. Thus passed the first eight days of the Tunbridge excursion, and another week succeeded without any varying event. Mrs. Albury now, impelled with concern for Camilla, and resentment against Edgar, renewed the subject of her opinion and advice upon his character and conduct. My dear young friend, cried she, I cannot bear to see your days, your views, your feelings thus fruitlessly consumed. I have observed this young man narrowly, and I am convinced he is not worth your consideration. Camilla, deeply coloring, was beginning to assure her she had no need of this counsel, but Mrs. Albury not listening continued. I know what you must say, yet once more I cannot refrain from venturing at the liberty of lending you my experience. Turn your mind from him with all the expedition in your power, for its peace may be touched for the better half of your life. You do not see, he does not perhaps himself know how exactly he is calculated to make you wretched. He is a watcher, and a watcher, restless than perturbed himself, in fists all he pursues with uneasiness. He is without trust, and therefore without either courage or consistency. Today he may be persuaded you will make all his happiness. Although he may fear you will give him nothing but misery, yet it is not that he is jealous of any other, it is of the object of his choice he is jealous, lest she should not prove good enough to merit it. Such a man, after long wavering and losing probable happiness in the terror of possible disappointment, will either die an old bachelor with endless repinings at his own lingering fastidiousness, or else marry just at the eve of confinement for life from a fit of the gout. He then makes, on a sudden, the first prudent choice in his way, a choice no longer difficult but from the embarrassment of its ease. For she must have no beauty, lest she should be sought by others, no wit, lest others should be sought by herself, and no fortune lest she should bring with it a taste of independence that might curb his own will when the strength and spirit are gone with which he might have curbed hers. Camilla attempted to laugh at this portrait, but Mrs. Albury entreated her to consider it as faithful and exact. You have thought of him too much, cried she, to do justice to any other, or you would not with such perfect unconcern pass by your daily increasing influence with Sir Sedley Clarendale. Excessively and very seriously offended, Camilla earnestly besought to be spared any hints of such a nature. I know well, cried she, how repugnant to seventeen is every idea of life that is rational. Let us therefore set aside in our discussions anything so really beneficial as a solid connection formed with a view to the worldly comforts of existence, and speak of Sir Sedley's Devoirs merely as the instrument of teaching Mandelbeer, that he is not the only rich and handsome young man in this lower sphere who has viewed Miss Camilla Tyrold with complacency. Clarendale, it is true, would lose every charm in my estimation by losing his heart. For the earth holds nothing comparable for deadness of weight with a poor soul really in love, except when it happens to be with oneself, yet to alarm the selfish irresolution of that impenetrable Mandelbeer I should really delight to behold him completely caught. Camilla distressed and confused, sought to parry the whole as railery, but Mrs. Arlberry would not be turned aside from her subject and purpose. I languish, I own, cried she, to see that frozen youth worked up into a little sensibility. I have an instinctive aversion to those cold, haughty drawing-back characters who are made up of the egotism of looking out for something that is wholly devoted to them and that has not a breath to breathe that is not a sigh for their perfections. Oh, this is far, Camilla began, meaning to say, far from the character of Mandelbeer, but ashamed of undertaking his defense she stopped short and only mentally added, even excellence such as his cannot then withstand prejudice. If there is any way, continued Mrs. Arlberry, of animating him for a moment out of himself, it can only be by giving him a dread of some other. The poor Major does his best, but he is not rich enough to be feared, unless he were more attractive. Sir, sadly, would seem more formidable. Continence, therefore, his present propensity to wear your chains till Mandelbeer perceives that he is putting them on, and then, mount to the rising ground you ought to tread and shoe at once your power and your disinterestedness by turning from the handsome baronet and all his immense wealth to mark, since you are determined to indulge it, your unbiased preference for Mandelbeer. Camilla irresistibly appeased by a picture so flattering to all her best feelings and dearest wishes looked down, angry with herself to find she felt no longer angry with Mrs. Arlberry. Mrs. Arlberry, perceiving a point gained, determined to enforce the blow, and then leave her to her reflections. Mandelbeer is a creature whose whole composition is a pile of accumulated punctilios. He will spend his life in refining away his own happiness, but do not let him refine away yours. He is just a man to bewitch an innocent and unguarded young woman from forming any other connection, and yet, when her youth and expectations have been sacrificed to his hesitation, to conceive he does not use her ill in thinking of her no more because he has entered into no verbal engagement. If his honour cannot be arraigned of breaking any bond, what matters merely breaking her heart? She then left the room, but Camilla dwelt upon nothing she had uttered except the one dear and inviting project of proving disinterestedness to Edgar. Oh, if once, she cried, I could annihilate every mercenary suspicion. If once I could shoe Edgar that his situation has no charms for me, and it has none, none, then indeed I am his equal, though I am nothing, equal in what is highest, in mind, in spirit, in sentiment. From this time the whole of her behaviour became coloured by this fascinating idea, and a scheme which, if proposed to her under its real name of coquetry, she would have fled and condemned with antipathy. When presented to her as a means to mark her freedom from sordid motives, she adopted with inconsiderate fondness. The sight therefore of Edgar, whenever she met him, became now the signal for adding spirit to the pleasure with which already, and without any design, she had attended to the young baronet. Exertion gave to her the gaiety of which Solissitude had deprived her, and she appeared, in the eyes of Sir Sedley, every day more charming. She indulged him with the history of her adventure at the house of Mr. Dubster, and his prevalent taste for the ridiculous made the account enchant him. He cast off in return all heirs of affectation when he conversed with her separately, and though still in all mixed companies they were resumed, the real integrity, as well as indifference of her heart, made that a circumstance but to stimulate this new species of intercourse by representing it to be equally void of future danger to them both. All this, however, failed of its desired end. Edgar never saw her engaged by Sir Sedley, but he thought her youthfully grateful and esteemed her the more, or beheld her as a mere coquette and ceased to esteem her at all. But never for a moment was any personal uneasiness excited by their mutually increasing intimacy. The conversations he had held both with a baronet and herself had satisfied him that neither entertained one serious thought of the other, and he took therefore no interest in their acquaintance beyond that which was always alive a vigilant concern for the manner in which it might operate upon her disposition. With respect to the major he was by no means so entirely at his ease. He saw him still the declared and undisguised pursuer of her favour, and though he perceived at the same time she rather avoided than sought him, he still imagined, in general, his acceptance was arranged from the many preceding circumstances which had first given him that belief. The whole of her behaviour nevertheless perplexed as much as it grieved him and frequently in the same half hour she seemed to him all that was most amiable for inspiring admiration, and all that was least to be depended upon for retaining attachment. Yet, however, from time to time he felt alarmed or offended, he never ceased to experience the fondest interest in her happiness nor the most tender compassion for the dangers with which he saw her environed. He knew that though her understanding was excellent, her temper was so inconsiderate that she rarely consulted it, and that though her mind was of the purest innocence, it was unguarded by caution and unprotected by reflection. He thought her place where far higher discretion, far superior experience, might risk being shaken, and he did not more fervently wish than internally tremble for her safety. Wherever she appeared she was sure of distinction, Tismis Tyrol, the friend of Mrs Burlington, was buzzed round the moment she was seen, and the particular favor in which she stood with some votaries of the tone made even her artlessness, her retired education, and her ignorance of all that pertained to the certain circles passed over and forgiven in consideration of her personal attractions, her youth, and newness. Still, however, even this celebrity was not what most he dreaded, so sudden and unexpected in elevation upon the heights of fashionable fame might make her head indeed giddy, but her heart he thought formed of materials too pure and too good to be endangered so lightly. And though frequently when he saw her so circumstance, he feared she was undone for private life, he could not reflect upon her principles and disposition without soon recovering the belief that a short time might restore her mind to its native simplicity and worth. But another rock was in the way against which he apprehended she might be dashed whilst less suspicious of any peril. This rock indeed exhibited nothing to the view that could have affrighted any spectator less anxiously watchful or less personally interested in regarding it. But youth itself in the fervor of a strong attachment is as open-eyed, as observant, and as prophetic as age with all its concomitance of practice, time, and suspicion. This rock indeed, far from giving notice of danger by any sharp points or rough prominences, displayed only the smoothest and most inviting surface. For it was Mrs. Burlington, the beautiful, the accomplished, the attractive Mrs. Burlington whom he beheld as the object of the greatest risk she had to encounter. As he still preserved the character with which she had consented to invest him of her monitor, he seized every opportunity of communicating to her his doubts and apprehensions. But in proportion as her connection with that lady increased, youths to her manners and sentiments abated the wonderment they inspired, and they soon began to communicate an unmixed charm that made all other society, that of Edgar alone, accepted heartless and uninteresting. Yet in the conversations she held with him from time to time, she frankly related the extraordinary attachment of her new friend to some unknown correspondent, and confessed her own surprise when it first came to her knowledge. Edgar listened to the account with the most unaffected dismay and represented the probable danger and actual impropriety of such an intercourse in the strongest and most eloquent terms. But he could neither appall her confidence nor subdue her esteem. The openness with which all had originally and voluntarily been avowed convinced her of the innocence with which it was felt, and all that his exhortations could obtain was a remonstrance on her part to Mrs. Burlington. She found that lady, however, persuaded she indulged but an innocent friendship which she assured her was bestowed upon a person of as much honor as merit, and which only with life should she relinquish, since it was the sole consolation of her fettered existence. Edgar, to whom this was communicated, saw with terror the ascendance thus acquired over her judgment as well as her affections, and became more watchful and more uneasy in observing the progress of this friendship than all the flattering divorce of the gay baronet or the more serious assiduities of the major. Mrs. Burlington indeed was no common object, either for fear or for hope, for admiration or for censure. She possessed all that was most softly attractive, most bewitchingly beautiful, and most irresistibly captivating in mind, person, and manners. But to all that was thus most fascinating to others, she joined unhappily all that was most dangerous for herself, and heart the most susceptible, sentiments the most romantic, and an imagination the most exalted. She had been an orphan from earliest years, and left with an only brother to the care of a fanatical maiden aunt who had taught her nothing but her faith and her prayers, without one single lesson upon good works or the smallest instruction upon the practical use of her theoretical piety. All that ever varied these studies were some common and ill-selected novels and romances, which a young lady in the neighborhood privately lent her to read, till her brother, upon his first vacation from the university, brought her the works of the poets. These also it was only in secret she could enjoy, but to her juvenile fancy and irregularly principled mind that did not render them more tasteless. Whatever was most beautifully picturesque in poetry, she saw verified in the charming landscapes presented to her view in the part of Wales she inhabited. Whatever was most noble or tender in romance she felt promptly in her heart and conceived to be general, and whatever was enthusiastic in theology formed the whole of her idea and her belief with respect to religion. Brought up thus to think all things the most unusual and extraordinary were merely common, and of course she was romantic without consciousness and eccentric without intention. Nothing steady or rational had been instilled into her mind by others, and she was too young and too fanciful to have formed her own principles with any depth of reflection or study of propriety. She had entered the world by a sudden and most unequal marriage in which her choice had no part with only two self-formed maxims for the law of her conduct. The first of these was that from her early notions of religion no vestal should be more personally chaste. The second, that from her more recently imbibed ones of tenderness, her heart, since she was married without its concurrence, was still wholly at liberty to be disposed of by its own propensities without reproach and without scruple. With such a character, where virtue had so little guide even while innocence presided, where the person was so alluring and the situation so open to temptation, Edgar saw with almost every species of concern the daily increasing friendship of Camilla. Yet, while he feared for her firmness, he knew not how to blame her fondness, nor where so much was amiable in his object, could he cease to wish that more were right. Thus again lived and died another week, and the fourth succeeded with no actual occurrence, but a new change of opinion in Mrs. Arlbury, that forcibly and cruelly affected the feelings of Camilla. Uninformed of the motive that occasioned the indifference with which Edgar beheld the newly awakened gallantry of Sir Sedley, and the pleasure with which Camilla received it, Mrs. Arlbury observed his total unconcerned first with surprise, next with perplexity, and finally with a belief he was seriously resolved against forming any connection with her himself. This she took an early opportunity to intimate to Camilla, warmly exhorting her to drive him fast from her mind. Camilla assured her that no task would be more easy, but the disappointment of the project with respect to Sir Sedley, which she blushed to have adopted, hurt her in every possible direction. Coquetry was as foreign to the ingeniousness of her nature as to the dignity of all her early maternal precepts. She had hastily encouraged the devoirs of the baronet upon the recommendation of a woman she loved and admired, but now that the failure of her aim brought her to reflection, she felt penitent and ashamed to have heeded any advice so contrary to the singleness of the doctrines of her father, and so inferior to the elevation of every sentiment she had ever heard from her mother. If Edgar had seen her design, he had surely seen it with contempt, and though his manner was still the most gentle, and his advice ever ready and friendly, the opinion of Mrs. Arlberry was corroborated by all her own observations that he was decidedly estranged from her. What repentance ensued! What severity of regret! How did she canvass her conduct! How lament she had ever formed that fatal acquaintance with Mrs. Arlberry, who he had so utterly opposed, and which seemed eternally destined to lead her into measures and conduct most foreign to his approbation! The melancholy that now again took possession of her spirits made her decline going abroad, from a renewed determination to avoid all meetings with Edgar. Mrs. Arlberry felt provoked to find his power thus unabated, and so sadly was astonished. He still saw her perpetually from his visits at Mount Pleasant, but his vanity that weakest yet most predominant feature of his character received a shock for which no modesty of apprehension or forethought had prepared him, in finding that, when he saw her no more in the presence of Mandelbeer, he saw her no more the same. She was ready still to converse with him, but no particular attention was flattering, no desire to oblige was pointed. He found he had been merely a passive instrument in her estimation to excite jealousy, and even as such had been powerless to produce that effect. The railery which Mrs. Arlberry spared not upon the occasion added greatly to his peak, and his mortification was so visible that Camilla perceived it, and perceived it with pain, with shame, and with surprise. She thought now, for the first time, that the public homage he had paid her had private and serious motives, and that what she imagined mere sportive gallantry arose from a growing attachment. This idea had no gratifying power, believing Edgar without care for her, she could not hope it would stimulate his regard, and, conceiving she had herself excited the partiality by willful civilities, she could feel only reproach from a conquest unduly, unfairly, uningeniously obtained. In proportion as these self-up ratings made her less deserving in her own eyes, the merits of the young baronette seemed to augment, and in considering herself as culpable for having raised his regard, she appeared before him with a humility that gave a softness to her look and manners, which soon proved as interesting to Sir Sedley as her market gaiety had been flattering. When she perceived this, she felt distressed anew. To shun him was impossible, as Mrs. Arlberry not only gave him completely the freedom of her house, but assiduously promoted their belonging always to the same group and being seated next to each other. There was nothing she would not have done to extenuate her error and to obviate its ill effect upon Sir Sedley, but as she always thought herself in the wrong and regarded him as injured, every effort was accompanied with a timidity that gave to every change a new charm rather than any repulsive quality. In this state of total self-disapprobation, to return to Etherington was her only wish, and to pass the intermediate time with Mrs. Burlington became her sole pleasure. But she was forced again into public to avoid an almost single intercourse with Sir Sedley. In meeting again with Edgar she saw him openly delighted at her sight, but without the least apparent solicitude or notice that the young baronet had passed almost the whole of the interval upon Mount Pleasant. This was instantly noticed and instantly commented upon by Mrs. Arlberry, who again and strongly pointed out to Camilla that to save her youth from being wasted by fruitless expectation she must forget young Mandelbeer and study only her own amusement. Camilla dissented not from the opinion, but the doctrine to which it was easy to agree. It was difficult to put in practice, and her ardent mind believed itself fettered forever, and forever unhappy. End of CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 THE SIXTH AND LAST WEEK, DESTINED FOR THE TURNBRIDGE SOUGEON, was begun when Mrs. Arlberry once more took her fair young guest apart and entreated her attention for one final half-hour. The time, she said, was fast advancing in which they must return to the respective homes, but she wished to make a full and clear representation of the advantages that might be reaped from this excursion before the period for gathering them should be passed. She would forbear, she said, entering again upon the irksome subject of the insensibility of Mandelbeer, which was, at least, sufficiently glaring to prevent any delusion. But she begged leave to speak of what she believed had less obviously struck her, the apparent promise of a serious attachment from Sir Sedley Clarendall. Camilla would hear instantly have broken up the conversation, but Mrs. Arlberry insisted upon being heard. Why, she asked, should she willfully destine her youth to a hopeless waste of affection and death of all permanent comfort? To sacrifice every consideration to the annus of constancy might be soothing and even glorious in this first season of romance, but a very short time would render it vapid, and the epoch of repentance was always at hand to succeed. With the least address or the least genuine encouragement, it was now palpable she might see Sir Sedley and his title and fortune at her feet. Camilla resentfully interrupted her, disclaiming with Sir Sedley, as with everyone else, all possibility of alliance from motive so degrading, and persisted in declaring that the most moderate subsistence with freedom would be preferable to the most affluent obtained by any mercenary engagement. Mrs. Arlberry desired her to recollect that Sir Sedley, though rich enough to splendor, was so young, so gay, so handsome, and so pleasant, that she might safely honor him with her hand, yet run no risk of being supposed to have made a merely interested alliance. I threw out this, she cried, in conclusion, for your deepest consideration, but I must press it no further. Sir Sedley is evidently charmed with you at present, and his vanity is so potent, and, like all vanity, so easily assailable, that the smallest food to it, adroitly administered, would secure him your slave for life, and rescue you from the antediluvian courtship of a man who, if he marries at all, is so deliberate in his progress, that he must reach his grand climacteric before he can reach the altar. Far from meditating upon this discourse, with any view to following its precepts, Camilla found it necessary to call all her original fondness for Mrs. Arlberry to her aid to forgive the plainness of her attack, or the worldliness of her notions, and all that rested upon her mind for consideration was her belief in the serious regard of Sir Sedley, which, as she apprehended it to be the work of her own designed exertions, she could only think of with contrition. These reminations were interrupted by a call downstairs to see a learned bullfinch. The denals and Sir Sedley were present. She met the eyes of the latter, with a sensation of shame that quickly deepened her whole face with crimson. He did not behold it without emotion, and experienced a strong curiosity to define its exact cause. He addressed himself to her with the most marked distinction. She could scarcely answer him, but her manner was even touchingly gentle. Sir Sedley could not restrain himself from following her in every motion by his eyes. He felt an interest concerning her that surprised him. He began to doubt if it had been indifference which caused her late change. Her softness helped his vanity to recover its tone, and her confusion almost confirmed him that Mrs. Orbury had been mistaken in rallying his failure of rivalry with Mendelbert. The bird sung various little airs upon certain words of command and mounted his highest and descended to his lowest perch, and made whatever evolutions were within the circumference of his limited habitation with wonderful precision. Camilla, however, was not more pleased by his adroitness than pain to observe the severe aspect with which his keeper issued his orders. She inquired by what means he had obtained such authority. The man, with a significant wag of the head, brutally answered, by the true old way, Miss, I licks him. Lick him, repeated she, with disgust. How is it possible you can beat such a poor delicate little creature? How easy enough, Miss, replied the man, grinning. Everything's the better for a little beating, as I tell my wife. There's nothing so fine said, Miss, but what will bear it more or less? Sir Sedley asked with what he could strike it that would not endanger its life. That's telling, sir, cried the man, with a sneer. How beat, with plenty of ill luck in the trade. No want of that. For one dollar rears I lose a six or seven, and sometimes they be so plaguey sarky they tempt me to give them a knock a little matter too hard, and then they'll fall you into a fit like, and go off in a twinkle. And how can you have the cruelty, cried Camilla, indignantly, to treat in such a manner a poor little inoffensive animal who does not understand what you require? Oh, yes, it does, Miss. They know what I want as well as I do myself. Only there's a dead tire summit being shy. Why, now, this one here, as does all he's learning to satisfaction just now, may happen do nothing at all by an hour or two. Why, sometimes, you may pinch him to a mummy before you can make him budge. Pinch them, exclaimed she. Do you ever pinch them? Do I? I miss. Why, how do you think one learns them dumb creatures? It don't come to him natural. They are main dull of themselves. This one, as you see here, would do nothing at all if he was not afraid of a tweak. Poor unhappy little thing, cried she. I hope, at least, now it has learned so much it's suffering so over. Yes, yes, he's pretty well off. I always gives him his fill when he's done his day's work. But a little squeak now and then in the interim doesn't no harm. They're all cunning, once forced to be pretty tough for them. How should I rejoice, cried Camilla, to rescue this one poor unoffending and oppressed little animal from such tyranny? Then, taking out her purse, she desired to know what he would have for it. The man, as a very great favour, said he would take ten guineas, though it would be his ruin to part with it, as it was all his livelihood. But he was willing to oblige the young lady. Camilla, with a constrained laugh, but a very natural blush, put up her purse and said, Though mustling around then in captivity, though poor little undeserving sufferer, for I cannot help thee. Everybody protested that ten guineas was an imposition, and the man offered to part with it for five. Camilla, who had imagined it would have cost half a guinea, was now more ashamed, because equally incapable to answer such a demand. She declined, therefore, her composition, and the man was dismissed. At night, when she returned to her own room from the play, she saw the little bell-finch, reposing in a superb cage upon her table. Delighted first and next, perplexed, she flew to Mrs. Orbury and inquired whence it came. Mrs. Orbury was as much amazed as herself. Questions were then asked of the servants, but none knew, or none would own, how the bird became thus situated. Camilla could not now doubt, but so sadly had given this commission to his servant, who could easily place the cage in her room from his constant access to the house. She was enchanted to see the little animal relieved from so painful a life, but hesitated not a moment in resolving to refuse its acceptance. When Sir Saddley came the next day, she carried it down and, with a smile of open pleasure, thanked him for giving her so much share in his generous liberality, and asked if he could take it home with him in his carriage, or if she should send it to his hotel. Sir Saddley was disappointed, he had felt the propriety of her delicacy and her spirit. He did not deny the step he had taken, but told her that having hastily, from the truth of reflection, her compassion had awakened, ordered his servant to follow the man and buy the bird, he had forgotten, till it arrived, his incapability of taking care of it. His valet was as little at home as himself, and there was small chance at an inn that any maid would so carefully watch as to prevent its falling prey to the many cats with which it was swarming. He hoped, therefore, till their return to Hampshire, she would take charge of a little animal that owed its deliverance from slavery to her pitying comments. Camilla, instinctively, would, with unfaithful joy, have accepted such a trust, but she thought she saw something utterly significant in the eye of Mrs. Orbury, and therefore stammered out, she was afraid she should herself be too little at home to secure its safety. Sir Saddley, looking extremely blank, said, it would be better to redeliver it to the man, brute as he was, than to let it be unprotected. But, where generosity touched Camilla, reflection ever flew her, and of all guard at such an idea, she exclaimed she would rather relinquish going out again, while at Turnbridge, than render his humanity abortive, and ran off precipitately with the bird to her chamber. Mrs. Orbury, soon following, praised her behaviour, and said she had sent the baronet away perfectly happy. Camilla, much provoked, would now have had the bird conveyed after him, but Mrs. Orbury assured her, inconsistency in a woman was as flattering as in a man it was tedious and alarming, and persuaded her to let the matter rest. Her mind, however, did not rest at the same time. In the evening, when the baronet met them at the rooms, he was not only unusually gay, but looked at her with an air and manner that seemed probably to mark her as the cause of his satisfaction. In the deepest disturbance, she considered herself now to be in a difficulty the most delicate. She could not come forward to clear it up, without announcing expectations from his partiality, which he had never authorised by any declaration, nor yet suffer such symptoms of his believing it welcome to pass unnoticed, without risking the reproach of using him ill when she made known, at a later period, her indifference. Mrs. Orbury would not aid her, for she thought the embarrassment might lead to a termination the most fortunate. To consult with Edgar was her first wish, but how opened such a subject? The very thought, however, gave her an air of solicitude when he spoke to her, that struck him, and he watched for an opportunity to say, You have not, I hope, forgotten my province? May I, in my permitted office, ask a few questions? Oh, yes, cried she with alacrity. And, when they are asked and when I have answered them, if you should not be too much tired, may I ask some in my turn? Of me, cried he with the most gratified surprise. Not concerning yourself, answered she, blushing, but upon something which a little distresses me. When, and where, may it be? cried he, while a thousand conjectures rapidly succeeded to each other. May I call upon Mrs. Orbury tomorrow morning? Oh, no, we shall be, I suppose, here again at night. She answered, dreading arranging a visit Mrs. Orbury would treat, she knew, with raidery, the most unmerciful. There was time for no more, as that lady, suddenly tired, led the way to the carriage. Edgar followed her to the door, hoping and fearing, at once, everything that was most interesting from a confidence so voluntary and so unexpected. Camilla was still more agitated, for though uncertain if she were right or wrong in the appeal she meant to make, to converse with him openly, to be guided by his counsel, and to convince him of her superiority to all mercenary alums were pleasures to make her look forward to the approaching conference with almost trembling delight. This is the LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The next night, as the carriage was at the door and the party preparing for the rooms, the name of Mr. Tyrold was announced, and Lionel entered the parlor. His manner was hurried, though he appeared gay and frisky as usual. Camilla felt a little alarmed, but Mrs. Arlberry asked if he would accompany them. With all his heart he answered only he first must have a moment's chat with his sister, then saying they should have a letter to write together he called for a pen and ink, and was taking her into another apartment when Mr. Dennell objected to letting his horses wait. Send them back for us then, cried Lionel with his customary ease, and we will follow you. Mr. Dennell again objected to making his horses so often mount the hill, but Lionel assuring him that nothing was so good for them, ran on with so many farrier words and phrases of the benefit they would reap from such light evening exercise that persuaded he was a master of the subject, Mr. Dennell submitted, and the brother and sister were left, tet a tet. At any other time Camilla would have proposed giving up the rooms entirely, but her desire to see Edgar and the species of engagement she had made with him counterbalanced every inconvenience. My dear girl, said Lionel, I am come to beg a favour. You see this pen and ink, give me a sheet of paper. She fetched him one. That's a good child, cried he, patting her cheek. So now sit down and write a short letter for me. Come begin, dear sir. She wrote, dear sir. An unforeseen accident, right on, an unforeseen accident, has reduced me to immediate distress for two hundred pounds. Camilla let her pen drop, and rising said, Lionel, is this possible? Very possible, my dear. You know, I told you I wanted another hundred before you left Cleves, so you must account it only as one hundred, in fact, at present. Oh Lionel, Lionel, cried Camilla, clasping her hands with a look of more remonstrance than any words she durst utter. Won't you write the letter? said he, pretending not to observe her emotion. To whom is it addressed? My uncle, to be sure. My dear, what can you be thinking of? Are you in love, Camilla? My uncle again? No, Lionel, no. I have soundly engaged myself to apply to him no more. That was for me, my dear, but where can you thoughts be wondering why you must ask for this as if it were for yourself? For myself? Certainly, you know he won't give it else. Impossible. What should I want two hundred pounds for? Oh, a thousand things. Say you must have some new gowns and caps and hats and petticoats and all those kind of gear. There is not the least difficulty. You can easily persuade him they're all worn out at such a place as this. Besides, I'll tell you what is still better. Say you've been robbed. He'll soon believe it, for he thinks all public place is filled with sharpers. Now you relieve me, said she with a sort of fearful smile, for I am sure you cannot be serious. You must be very certain I would not deceive or dilute my uncle for a million of worlds. You know nothing of life, child, nothing at all. However, if you won't say that, tell him it's for a secret purpose. At least you can do that, and then you can make him understand he must ask no questions about the manner. The money is all we want from him. This is so idle, Lionel, that I hope you speak it for mere nonsense. Who could demand such a sum and refuse to account for its purpose? Accounts, my dear. Does being an uncle give a man a right to be impertinent? If it does, marry out of hand yourself. There's a good girl and have a family at once that I may share the same privilege. I shall like it of all things. Who will you have? Foo! Foo! Major Sirwood? No, never. I once thought Edgar Mandelbeer had a snaking kindness for you, but I believe it's gone off. Or else I was out. This was not an observation to exhilarate her spirits. She sighed, but Lionel, concluding himself the cause, begged her not to be low-spirited, but to write the letter at once. She assured him she could never again consent to interfere in his unreasonable requests. He was undone, then, he said, for he could not live without the money. Rather say not with it, cried she, for you keep nothing. Nobody does, my dear. We all go on the same way nowadays. And what do you mean to be the end of it all, Lionel? How do you propose living when all these resources are completely exhausted? When I am ruined, you mean? Why, how do other people live when they are ruined? I can but do the same, though I have not much considered the matter. Do consider it, then, dear Lionel, for all our sakes, do consider it. Well, let me see. Oh, I don't mean so. I don't mean just now in this mere idle manner. Oh, yes, I'll do it at once, and then it'll be over. Faith, I don't well know. I have no great gusto for blowing out my brains. I like the little dears mighty well where they are. And I can't say I shall much relish to consume my life in prime and vigor in the king's bench prison. This horribly tiresome to reside always in the same spot. Nor have I no great disposition to whisk off to another country. Old England's a pretty place enough. I like it very well, with a little rhino understood. But it's the very deuce with an empty purse. So write the letter, my dear girl. And this is your consideration, Lionel, and this is its conclusion? Why, what signifies dwelling upon such dismal tease? Have I think upon my ruin beforehand I am no nearer to enjoyment now than then? Live while we live, my dear girl. I hate prophesizing horrors. Right, I say, right. Again, she absolutely refuse, pleading her promise to her uncle and declaring she would keep her word. Keep a fiddle stick, cried he, impatiently. You don't know what mischief you may have to answer for. You may bring misery upon all our heads. You may make my father banish me his sight. You may make my mother execrate me. Good heaven! cried Camilla, interrupting him. What is it you talk of? What is it you mean? Just what I say. And to make you understand me better, I'll give you a hint of the truth. But you must lose your life 20 times before you reveal it. There's, there's, do you hear me? There's a pretty girl in the case. A pretty girl. And what has that to do with this rapacity for money? What an innocent question. Why, what a baby thou art, my dear Camilla. I hope you're not forming any connection unknown to my father. cried Lionel, laughing out loud. Why thou hast lived in that old parsonage house till thou art almost too young to be rocked in a cradle. If you are entering into any engagement, said she, still more gravely, that my father must not know, and that my mother would so bitterly condemn, why am I to be trusted with it? You understand nothing of these things. Child, tis the very nature of a father to be in hunks and of a mother to be a bore. Oh, Lionel, such a father, such a mother. As to there being perfectly good and all that, I know it very well. And I am very sorry for it. A good father is a very serious misfortune to a poor lad like me, as the world runs. It causes one such confounded gripes of the conscience for every little awkward thing one does. A bad father would be the joy of my life. To be all fair play there, the more he was choused, the better. But this pretty girl, Lionel, are you serious? Are you really engaging yourself? And is she so poor? Is she so much distressed that you require these immense and frequent sums for her? Lionel laughed again and rubbed his hands, but after a short silence seemed a more steady continence and said, Don't ask me anything about her. It is not fit, you should be so curious. And don't give a hint of the matter to a soul, mind that. But as to the money, I must have it, and directly I shall be blown to the dew, sales. Lionel, cried Camilla shrinking, You make me tremble. You cannot surely be so wicked, so unprincipled. No, your connections are never worse than imprudent. You would not else be so unkind, so injurious as to place in me such a confidence. The whole face of Lionel now flashed with shame, and he walked about the room muttering, It is true, I ought not to have done it. And soon after, with still greater concern, he exclaimed, If this appears to you in such a heinous light, what will my father think of it? And how can I bear to let it be known to my mother? Oh, never, never, cried she emphatically, never let it reach the knowledge of either, if indeed you have been so inconsiderate and so wrong break up at least any such intercourse before it offends their ears. But how, my dear, can I do that if it gets blazed abroad? Blazed abroad? Yes, and for want only of a few pitiful guineas. What can you mean? How can it depend upon a few guineas? Give me the guineas and leave the how to me. My dear Lionel, cried she affectionately, I would do anything that is not absolutely improper to serve you, but my uncle has now nothing more to spare, he has told me so himself. And with what courage then, in this dark, mysterious, and I fear worse than mysterious business, can I apply to him? My dear child, he only wants to hoard up his money to shoe off poor Eugenia at her marriage, and you know as well as I do what a nanny he is for his pains. For what poor little dowdy thing will she look dized out in jewels and laces? Can you speak so of Eugenia, the most aimable, the most deserving, the most excellent creature breathing? I speak it in pure friendship, I would not have her exposed. I love dear little Greek and Latin as well as you do. Only the difference is, I don't talk so like an old woman. And really, when you do it yourself, you can't think the ridiculous effect it has when one looks at your pretty face. However, only write the request as if from yourself and tell him you'll acquaint him with the reason the next letter. But the post is just going out now, and then just coax him over a little, with how you long to be back, how you hate Tunbridge, and how you adore Cleves, how tired you are for want of his bright conversation, and you may command half his fortune. My dear Camilla, you don't know from what destruction you will rescue me. Think, too, of my father, and what a shock you will save him. And think of my mother whom I can never see again if you won't help me. Camilla sighed, but let him put the pen into her hand. Wence, however, the very next moment's reflection was urging her to cast it down. When he caught her in his arms in a transport of joy, called her his protectress from dishonor and despair, and said he would run to the rooms while she wrote, just to take the opportunity of seeing them and unorder the carriage that she might have no interruption to her composition, which he would come back to claim before the party returned as he must set off for Cleves and gallop all night to procure the money which the loss of a single day would render useless. All this he uttered with a rapidity that mocked every attempt at expostulation or answer and then ran out of the room and out of the house. Horror at such perpetual and increasing ill conduct, grief at the compulsive failure of meeting Edgar, and perplexity how to extricate herself from her half-given but wholly seized upon engagement to write, took for a while nearly equal shares in torment in Camilla. But all presently concentrated in one domineering sentiment of sharp repentance for what she had apparently undertaken. To claim two hundred pounds of her uncle in her own name was out of all question. She could not even a moment dwell upon such a project. But how represent what she herself so little understood as the necessity of Lionel? Or how ask for so large a sum and postpone as he desired all explanation? She was incapable of any species of fraud. She detested even the most distant disguise. Simple supplication seemed, therefore, her only method. But so difficult was even this, and an affair so dark and unconscionable, that she began twenty letters without proceeding in any one of them beyond two lines. Thus far, however, her task was light to what had appeared to her upon a little further deliberation. That her brother had farmed some unworthy engagement or attachment he had not indeed avowed clearly, but he had by no means denied. And she had even omitted in her surprise and consternation exacting his promise that it should immediately be concluded. What then might she be doing by endeavouring to procure this money? Aiding perhaps vice and immorality and assisting her misguided, if not guilty, brother, to persevere in the most dangerous errors, if not crimes? She shuddered. She pushed away her paper. She rose from the table. She determined not to write another word. Yet, to permit parents she justly revered to suffer any evil she had the smallest chance to spare them, was dreadful to her. And what evil could be inflicted upon them so deeply, so lastingly severe, as the conviction of any serious vices in any of their children? This for one minute brought her again to the table, but the next, her better judgment pointed out the shallowness and fallacy of such reasoning. To save them present pain at the risk of future anguish, to consult the feelings of her brother in preference to his morality, would be forgetting every lesson in her life which from its earliest on had imbibed love of virtue that made her consider whatever was offensive to it as equally disgusting and unhappy. To disappoint Lionel was, however, terrible. She knew well he would be deaf to her monstrance, ridicule all argument, and laugh off whatever she could urge by persuasion. She feared he would be quite outrageous to find his expectations thus thwarted, and the lateness of the hour when he would hear it, and the weight he annexed to obtaining the money expeditiously, redoubled at once her regret for her momentary compliance and her pity for what he would undergo through its failure. After considering it a thousand ways how to soften to him her recantation, she found herself so entirely without courage to encounter his opposition that she resolved to write him a short letter and then retire to her room to avoid an interview. In this she besought him to forgive her error in not sooner being sensible of her duty which had taught her upon her first reflection the impossibility of demanding two hundred pounds for herself who wanted nothing, and the impractability of demanding it for him in so unintelligible a manner. Thus far only she had proceeded from the length of time consumed in regret and renomination when a violent ringing at the door without the sound of any carriage made her start up and fly to her chamber leaving her unfinished letter with the beginnings of her several essays to address her hue upon the table to shoo her various efforts and to explain that they were relinquished. Recording by Linda Velwest Camilla or A Picture of Youth by Fanny Burney Book 6, Chapter 15 and A Quarter Thus self-contained and almost in an agony, Camilla remained for a quarter of an hour without any species of interruption and in the greatest amazement that Lionel Forbeau pursuing her either with letter or message. Another violent ringing at the bell but still without any carriage, then excited her attention and presently the voice and steps of Lionel resounded upon the stairs whence her name was with violence vociferated. She did not move and in another minute he was wrapping at her chamber door demanding admittance or that she would instantly descend. Alarmed for her open letter and papers, she inquired who was in the parlor. Not to soul, he answered, I have left them all at the rooms. Have you returned then twice? No, I should have been here sooner but I met two or three old cronies that would not part with me. Come, where's your letter? Have you not seen what I have written? Down upon this intimation he flew without any reply but was presently back saying he found nothing in the parlor except a letter to herself. A Friday she followed him but not one of her papers remained. The table was cleared and nothing was to be seen but a large packet addressed to her in a hand she did not know. She rang to inquire who had been in the house before her brother. The servant answered only Sir Cedly Clarendale who he thought had been there still as he had said he should wait till Mrs. Arlberry came home. Is it possible, cried she, that a gentleman such as Sir Cedly Clarendale can have permitted himself to touch my papers? Lionel agreed that it was shocking but said the loss of time to himself was still worse. Without suffering her therefore to open her packet he insisted that she should write another letter directly adding he had met the baronet on his way from the rooms but had little suspected whence he came or how he had been amusing himself. Camilla now hung about her brother in the greatest tribulation but refused to take the pen he would have put in her hands and at last not without tears said forgive me Lionel but the papers you ought to have found would have explained that I cannot write for you to my uncle. Lionel heard this with the ictignation of an injured man he was utterly he said lost and his family would be utterly disgraced for ruin must be the lot of his father and exile or imprisonment must be his own if she persisted in such unkind and unnatural conduct. Terror now bereft her of all speech or motion till the letter which Lionel had been beating about in his agitation without knowing or caring what he was doing burst open and some written papers fell to the floor which she recognized for her own. Much amazed she seized the cover which had only been fastened by a wafer that was still wet and saw a letter within it to herself which she hastily read while a paper that was enclosed dropped down and was caught by Lionel. To Miss Camilla Tyrold forgive Ferris Camilla the work of the destinies I came hither to see if illness detained you the papers which I enclose from other curious eyes caught mine by accident. The pathetic sisterly address has touched me I have not the honor to know Mr. Lionel Tyrold let our acquaintance begin with an act of confidence on his part that must bind to him forever his lovely sisters most obedient and devoted Sedley Clarendale. The loose paper picked up by Lionel was a draft upon a banker for two hundred pounds. While this with speechless emotion was perused by Camilla Lionel with unbounded joy began jumping and skipping leaping over every chair and capering round and round the room in an ecstasy. My dearest Lionel cried she when a little recovered why such joy you cannot suppose it possible this can be accepted not accepted child do you think me out of my senses don't you see me freed from all my misfortunes at once and neither my father grieved nor my mother offended nor poor numps fleeced and when can you pay it and what do you mean to do and to whom will be the obligation weigh weigh a little all this. Lionel heard her not his rapture was too buoyant for attention and he whisked everything out of its place from frantic merriment till he put the apartment into so much disorder that it was scarce practicable to stir a step in it now and then interrupting himself to make her low bows scraping his feet all over the room and obsequiously saying my sister Clarendale how does your lay ship do my dear lady Clarendale pray afford me your lay ships continents. Nothing could be less pleasant to Camilla than railery which pointed out that even by the unreflecting Lionel this action could be ascribed to but one motive the draft however had fallen into his hands and neither remonstrance nor petition neither representation of impromptuity nor persuasion could induce him to relinquish it he would only dance sing and pay her grotesque homage till the coach stopped at the door and then ludicrously hoping her ladyship would excuse his leaving her for once to play the part of the housemaid in setting the room to rights he sprang past the mall and bound it down the hill. Mrs. Arlberry was much diverted by the confusion in the parlor and Miss Dennell asked a thousand questions why the chairs and tables were all thrown down the china jars removed from the chimney piece into the middle of the room and the sideboard apparatus put on the chimney piece in their stead Camilla was too confounded either to laugh or explained and hastily wishing them good night retired to her chamber here in the extremist perturbation she saw the full extent of her difficulties without perceiving any means of extrication she had no hope of recovering the draft from Lionel whom she had every reason to conclude already journeying from Tunbridge what could she say the next day to Sir Sedley how account for so sudden so gross an acceptance of pecuniary obligation what interference might he not draw and how could she un-deceive him while retaining so improper a mark of his dependence upon her favour the displeasure she felt that he should venture to suppose she would owe him such a debt rendered but still more palpable the species of expectations it might authorize to destroy this illusion occupied all her attention except what was imperiously seized upon by regret of missing Edgar with whom to consult was more than ever her wish in this disturbed state when she saw Mrs. Albury the next morning her whole care was to avoid being questioned and that lady who quickly perceived her fears by her avoidance took the first opportunity to say to her with a laugh I see I must make new inquiries into the gambles of your brother last night but I may put together perhaps certain circumstances that may give me a little light to the business and if as I conjecture Clarendale spoke out to him his wildest writing is more rational than his sister's gravity Camilla protested they had not conversed together at all who may then I own myself still in the dark but I observed that Clarendale left the rooms at a very early hour and that your brother almost immediately followed Camilla ventured not any reply and soon after retreated Mrs. Albury in a few minutes pursuing her laughingly and with sportive reproach accused her of intending to steal a march to the altar of Hyman as she had just been informed by her maid that Sir Sedley had actually been at the house last night during her absence Camilla seriously assured her that she was in her chamber when he arrived and had not seen him for what in the world then could he come he was sure I was not home for he had left me at the rooms Camilla again was silent but her tingling cheeks proclaimed it was not for want of something to say Mrs. Albury forbore to press the matter further but forbore it with a nod that implied I see how it is and a smile that published the pleasure and approbation which accompanied her self conviction the vexation of Camilla would have prompted an immediate confession of the whole mortifying transaction had she not been endued with a sense of honor where the interests of others were concerned that repressed her natural precipitance and was more powerful even than her imprudence she waited the greatest part of the morning in some little faint hope of seeing Lionel but he came not and she spent the rest of it with Mrs. Burlington she anxiously wished to meet Edgar in the way to apologize for her non-appearance the preceding evening but this did not happen and her concern was not lessened by reflecting upon this superior interest in her health and welfare marked by Sir Sidley who had taken the trouble to walk from the rooms to Mount Pleasant to see what was become of her she returned home but barely in time to dress for dinner and was not yet ready when she saw the carriage of the baronet drive up to the door oh and the most terrible confusion how to meet him what to say about the draft how to mention her brother whether to seem resentful of the liberty he had so unceremoniously taken or thankful for its kindness she had scarce the force to attire herself nor when summoned downstairs to descend this distress was but increased upon her entrance by the sight and the behavior of the baronet whose address to her was so marked that it covered her with blushes and whose air had an assurance that spoke a species of secret triumph offended as well as frightened she looked every way to avoid him or assumed a look of haughtiness when forced by any direct speech to answer him she soon however saw by his continued self complacency and even an increase of gaiety that he only regarded this as coquetry or bashful embarrassment since every time she attempted us to rebuff him and arch smiles stole over his features that displayed his different conception of her meaning she now wished nothing so much as a prompt and positive declaration that she might convince him of his mistake and her rejection for this purpose she subdued her desire of retreat and spent the whole afternoon with mrs. albury and the denals in his company nevertheless when mrs. albury who had the same object in view though with different conclusion can drive to draw her other guests out of the apartment and to leave her alone with sir sedley modesty and shame both interfered with her desire of an explanation and she was hastily retiring but the baronet in a gentle voice called after her are you going yes i have forgotten something he rose to follow her with a motion that seemed purporting to take her hand but gliding quickly on she prevented him and was almost at the same moment in her own chamber with augmented severity she now felt the impropriety of an apparent acceptance of so singular and unpleasant an obligation which obviously misled sir sedley to believe her at his command shocked in her delicacy and stung in her best notions of laudable pride she could not rest without destroying this humiliating idea and resolved to apply to edgar for the money and to pay the baronet the next day her objections to betraying the extravagance of linel though great and sincere yielded to the still more dangerous evil of letting sir sedley continue in an error that might terminate in branding her in his opinion with a character of inconsistency or duplicity edgar too so nearly a brother to them both would guard the secret of linel better in all probability than he would guard it himself and could draw no personal inferences from the trust and obligation when he found its sole incitement was sooner to owe an obligation to award of her father than to a new acquaintance of her own please at the seeming necessity of an application that would lead so naturally to a demand of the council she languished to claim she determined not to suffer sir sedley to wait even another minute under his mistake but since she now could speak of returning the money to take courage for meeting what might either precede or ensue in a conference down therefore she went but as she opened the parlor door she hurts her sadly satan mrs alberry who had just entered before her oh five five you know she will be cruel to excruciation you know me destined to despair to the last degree camilla who's so speedy reappearance was the last site he expected was too far advanced to retreat and the resentment that tinged her whole complexion should she had heard what he said and had heard it with an application the most offensive an immediate sensibility to his own impertinence now succeeded in its vain display he looked not merely concerned but contrite and in a voice softened nearly to timidity attempted a general conversation but kept his eyes with an anxious expression almost continually fixed upon hers anger with camilla was a quick but short-lived sensation and this sudden change in the baronette from conceit to respect produced a change equally sudden in herself from disdain to in quiet to though mortified in the first moment by his vanity it was less seriously painful to her than any belief that under it was couched a disposition towards a really steady regard with mrs alberry she was but slightly offended though certain she had been assuring him of all the success he could demand her way of thinking upon the subject had been openly avowed and she did justice to the kindness of her motives no opportunity however arose to mention the return of the draft mrs alberry saw displeasure in her air and not doubting she had heard what had dropped from sir sedley thought the moment unfavorable for a tet a tet and resolutely kept her place till camilla herself weary of useless waiting left the room following her then to her chamber my dear miss tyrold she cried do not let your extreme youth stand in the way of all your future life a baronette rich young and amiable is upon the very point of becoming your slave forever yet because you discover him to be a little restive in the last agonies of his liberty you are eager in the high flown disdain of juvenile susceptibility to cast him and his fortune away as if both were such everyday bobbles that you might command or reject them without thought of future consequence indeed no dear madam i am not actuated by pride or anger i owe too much to sir sedley to feel either above a moment even where i think them pardon me justly excited but i should ill pay my debt by accepting a lasting attachment where certain i can return nothing but lasting eternal unchangeable indifference you sacrifice then both him and yourself to the fanciful delicacy of a first love no indeed cried she blushing i have no thought at all but of this single life and i sincerely hope sir sedley has no serious intentions towards me for my obligations to him are so infinite i should be cruelly hurt to appear to him ungrateful you would appear to him i confess a little surprising said mrs albury laughing for diffidence certainly is not his weak part however with all his foibles he is a charming creature and pre-possession only can blind you to his merit camilla again denied the charge and strove to prevail with her to un-deceive the baronet from any false expectations but she protested she would not be accessory to so much after repentance and left her the business now were a very serious aspect to camilla mrs albury avowed she thought sir sedley in earnest and he knew she had herself heard him speak with security of his success the bullfinch had gone far but the draft seemed to have riveted the persuasion the bird it was now impossible to return till her departure from tonbridge but she resolved not to defer another moment putting upon her brother alone the obligation of the draft to stop the further progress of such dangerous inference hastily therefore she wrote to him the following note to sir sedley clarindale bart sir some particular business compelled my brother so abruptly to quit tonbridge that he could not have the honor to first wait upon you with his thanks for the loan you so unexpectedly put into his hands by mine however all will be restored tomorrow morning except his gratitude for your kindness i am sir in both our names your obliged humble servant camilla tyrold mount pleasant thursday evening she now waited till she was summoned downstairs to the carriage and then gave her a little letter to a servant whom she desired to deliver it to sir sedley's man sir sedley did not accompany them to the rooms but promised to follow camilla on her arrival with palpitating pleasure looked round for edgar she did not however see him she was accosted directly by the major who as usual never left her and whose acidity to seek her favor seemed increased she next joined mrs burlington but still she saw nothing of edgar her eyes incessantly looked towards the door but the object they sought never met them when sir sedley entered he joined the group of mrs burlington camilla tried to look at him and to speak to him with her customary civility and cheerfulness and nearly succeeded while in him she observed only an expressive attention without any marks of presumption thus began and thus ended the evening edgar never appeared camilla was in the utmost amaze and deepest vexation why did he stay away was his wrath so great at her own failure the preceding night that he purposely avoided her what also could she do with sir sedley how meet him the next morning without the draft she had now promised in this state of extreme chagrin when she retired to her chamber she found the following letter upon her table to miss camilla tyrold can you think of such a trifle or deem wealth so truly contemptible as to deny it all honorable employment oh rather enchanting camilla deem further to aid me in dispensing it worthily sedley clarindale camilla was now touched penetrated and distressed beyond what she had been in any form or time she looked upon this letter as a positive intimation of the most serious designs and all his good qualities as painted by mrs albury with the very singular obligation she owed to him rose up formidable to support the arguments and remonstrances of that lady though every feeling of her heart every sentiment of her mind and every wish of her soul opposed their smallest weight end of chapter 15