He then felt tempted to hint to Mr. Tyrold, who, viewing all things, and all people in the best light, rarely foresaw danger, and never suspected deception, the expediency of her breaking off this intercourse, till she could pursue it under the security of her mother"s penetrating protection. But it occurred to him next, it was possible the Major might have pleased her. Ardent as were his own views, they had never been declared, while those of the Major seemed proclaimed without reserve. He felt his face tingle at the idea, though it nearly made his heart cease to beat; and determined to satisfy his conjecture ere he took any measure for himself.
To speak to her openly, he thought the surest as well as fairest way, and resolved, with whatever anguish, should he find the Major favoured, to aid her choice in his fraternal character, and then travel till he should forget her in every other.
For this purpose, it was necessary to make immediate enquiry into the situation of the Major, and then, if she would hear him, relate to her the result; well a.s.sured to gather the state of her heart upon this subject, by her manner of attending to the least word by which it should be introduced.
Camilla, meanwhile, was somewhat comforted by the exertion she had shewn, and by her hopes it had struck Edgar with respect.
The next morning, Sir Hugh sent for her again, and begged she would pa.s.s the whole day with her sister Eugenia, and use all her pretty ways to amuse her; for she had returned home, the preceding morning, quite moped with melancholy, and had continued pining ever since; refusing to leave her room, even for meals, yet giving no reason for her behaviour. What had come to her he could not tell; but to see her so, went to his heart; for she had always, he said, till now, been chearful and even tempered, though thinking over her learning made her not much of a young person.
Camilla flew up stairs, and found her, with a look of despondence, seated in a corner of her room, which she had darkened by nearly shutting all the shutters.
She knew but too well the rude shock she had received, and sought to revive her with every expression of soothing kindness. But she shook her head, and continued mute, melancholy, and wrapt in meditation.
More than an hour was spent thus, the strict orders of Sir Hugh forbidding them any intrusion: but when, at length, Camilla ventured to say, "Is it possible, my dearest Eugenia, the pa.s.sing insolence of two or three brutal wretches can affect you thus deeply?" She awakened from her silent trance, and raising her head, while something bordering upon resentment began to kindle in her breast, cried, "Spare me this question, Camilla, and I will spare you all reproach."
"What reproach, my dear sister," cried Camilla, amazed, "what reproach have I merited?"
"The reproach," answered she, solemnly; "that, from me, all my family merit! the reproach of representing to me, that thousands resembled me!
of a.s.suring me I had nothing peculiar to myself, though I was so unlike all my family--of deluding me into utter ignorance of my unhappy defects, and then casting me, all unconscious and unprepared, into the wide world to hear them!"
She would now have shut herself into her book-closet; but Camilla, forcing her way, and almost kneeling to be heard, conjured her to drive such cruel ideas from her mind, and to treat the barbarous insults that she had suffered with the contempt they deserved.
"Camilla," said she, firmly; "I am no longer to be deceived nor trifled with. I will no more expose to the light a form and face so hideous:--I will retire from all mankind, and end my destined course in a solitude that no one shall discover."
Camilla, terrified, besought her to form no such plan, bewailed the unfortunate adventure of the preceding day, inveighed against the inhuman women, and pleaded the love of all her family with the most energetic affection.
"Those women," said she, calmly, "are not to blame; they have been untutored, but not false; and they have only uttered such truths as I ought to have learnt from my cradle. My own blindness has been infatuated; but it sprung from inattention and ignorance.--It is now removed!--Leave me, Camilla; give notice to my Uncle he must find me some retreat. Tell all that has pa.s.sed to my father. I will myself write to my mother--and when my mind is more subdued, and when sincerely and unaffectedly I can forgive you all from my heart, I may consent to see you again."
She then positively insisted upon being left.
Camilla, penetrated with her undeserved, yet irremediable distress, still continued at her door, supplicating for re-admittance in the softest terms; but without any success till the second dinner bell summoned her down stairs. She then fervently called upon her sister to speak once more, and tell her what she must do, and what say?
Eugenia steadily answered: "You have already my commission: I have no change to make in it."
Unable to obtain anything further, she painfully descended: but the voice of her Uncle no sooner reached her ears from the dining parlour, than, shocked to convey to him so terrible a message, she again ran up stairs, and casting herself against her sister"s door, called out "Eugenia, I dare not obey you! would you kill my poor Uncle? My Uncle, who loves us all so tenderly? Would you afflict--would you make him unhappy?"
"No, not for the universe!" she answered, opening the door; and then, more gently, yet not less steadfastly, looking at her, "I know," she continued, "you are all very good; I know all was meant for the best; I know I must be a monster not to love you for the very error to which I am a victim.--I forgive you therefore all! and I blush to have felt angry.--But yet--at the age of fifteen--at the instant of entering into the world--at the approach of forming a connection which--O Camilla!
what a time, what a period, to discover--to know--that I cannot even be seen without being derided and offended!"
Her voice here faltered, and, running to the window curtain, she entwined herself in its folds, and called out: "O hide me! hide me! from every human eye, from every thing that lives and breathes! Pursue me, persecute me no longer, but suffer me to abide by myself, till my fort.i.tude is better strengthened to meet my destiny!"
The least impatience from Eugenia was too rare to be opposed; and Camilla, who, in common with all her family, notwithstanding her extreme youth, respected as much as she loved her, sought only to appease her by promising compliance. She gave to her, therefore, an unresisted, though unreturned embrace, and went to the dining-parlour.
Sir Hugh was much disappointed to see her without her sister; but she evaded any account of her commission till the meal was over, and then begged to speak with him alone.
Gently and gradually she disclosed the source of the sadness of Eugenia: but Sir Hugh heard it with a dismay that almost overwhelmed him. All his contrition for the evils of which, unhappily, he had been the cause, returned with severest force, and far from opposing her scheme of retreat, he empowered Camilla to offer her any residence she chose; and to tell her he would keep out of her sight, as the cause of all her misfortunes; or give her the immediate possession and disposal of his whole estate, if that would make her better amends than to wait till his death.
This message was no sooner delivered to Eugenia, than losing at once every angry impression, she hastened down stairs, and casting herself at the knees of her Uncle, begged him to pardon her design, and promised never to leave him while she lived.
Sir Hugh, most affectionately embracing her, said--"You are too good, my dear, a great deal too good, to one who has used you so ill, at the very time when you were too young to help yourself. I have not a word to offer in my own behalf; except to hope you will forgive me, for the sake of its being all done out of pure ignorance."
"Alas, my dearest Uncle! all I owe to your intentions, is the deepest grat.i.tude; and it is your"s from the bottom of my heart. Chance alone was my enemy; and all I have to regret is, that no one was sincere enough, kind enough, considerate enough, to instruct me of the extent of my misfortunes, and prepare me for the attacks to which I am liable."
"My dear girl," said he, while tears started into his eyes, "what you say n.o.body can reply to; and I find I have been doing you one wrong after another, instead of the least good: for all this was by my own order; which it is but fair to your brothers and sisters, and father and mother, and the servants, to confess. G.o.d knows, I have faults enough of my own upon my head, without taking another of pretending to have none!"
Eugenia now sought to condole him in her turn, voluntarily promising to mix with the family as usual, and only desiring to be excused from going abroad, or seeing any strangers.
"My dear," said he, "you shall judge just what you think fit, which is the least thing I can do for you, after your being so kind as to forgive me; which I hope to do nothing in future not to deserve more; meaning always to ask my brother"s advice; which might have saved me all my worst actions, if I had done it sooner: for I"ve used poor Camilla no better; except not giving her the small pox, and that bad fall. But don"t hate me, my dears, if you can help it, for it was none of it done for want of love; only not knowing how to shew it in the proper manner; which I hope you"ll excuse for the score of my bad education."
"O, my Uncle!" cried Camilla, throwing her arms round his neck, while Eugenia embraced his knees, "what language is this for nieces who owe so much to your goodness, and who, next to their parents, love you more than anything upon earth!"
"You are both the best little girls in the world, my dears, and I need have nothing upon my conscience if you two pa.s.s it over; which is a great relief to me; for there"s n.o.body else I"ve used so bad as you two young girls; which, G.o.d knows, goes to my heart whenever I think of it.--Poor little innocents!--what had you ever done to provoke me?"
The two sisters, with the most virtuous emulation, vied with each other in demonstrative affection, till he was tolerably consoled.
The rest of the day was ruffled but for one moment; upon Sir Hugh"s answering, to a proposition of Miss Margland for a party to the next Middleton races,--that there was no refusing to let Eugenia take that pleasure, after her behaving so n.o.bly: her face was then again overcast with the deepest gloom; and she begged not to hear of the races, nor of any other place, public or private, for going abroad, as she meant during the rest of her life, immoveably to remain at home.
He looked much concerned, but a.s.sured her she should be mistress in every thing.
Camilla left them in the evening, with a promise to return the next day; and with every anxiety of her own, lost in pity for her innocent and unfortunate sister.
She was soon, however, called back to herself, when, with what light yet remained, she saw Edgar ride up to the coach door.
With indefatigable pains he had devoted the day to the search of information concerning the Major. Of Mrs. Arlbery he had learned, that he was a man of fashion, but small fortune; and from the Ensign he had gathered, that even that small fortune was gone, and that the estate in which it was vested, had been mortgaged for three thousand pounds, to pay certain debts of honour.
Edgar had already been to the Parsonage House, but hearing Camilla was at Cleves, had made a short visit, and determined to walk his horse upon the road till he met the carriage of Sir Hugh; believing he could have no better opportunity of seeing her alone.
Yet when the coach, upon his riding up to the door, stopt, he found himself in an embarra.s.sment for which he was unprepared. He asked how she did; desired news of the health of all the family one by one; and then, struck by the coldness of her answers, suffered the carriage to drive on.
Confounded at so sudden a loss of all presence of mind, he continued, for a minute or two, just where she left him; and then galloped after the coach, and again presented himself at its window.
In a voice and manner the most hurried, he apologised for this second detention. "But, I believe," he said, "some genius of officiousness has to-day taken possession of me, for I began it upon a Quixote sort of enterprise, and a spirit of knight-errantry seems willing to accompany me through it to the end."
He stopt; but she did not speak. Her first sensation at his sight had been wholly indignant: but when she found he had something to say which he knew not how to p.r.o.nounce, her curiosity was awakened, and she looked earnest for an explanation.
"I know," he resumed, with considerable hesitation, "that to give advice and to give pain is commonly the same thing:--I do not, therefore, mean--I have no intention--though so lately you allowed me a privilege never to be forgotten"--
He could not get on; and his embarra.s.sment, and this recollection, soon robbed Camilla of every angry emotion. She looked down, but her countenance was full of sensibility, and Edgar, recovering his voice, proceeded--
"My Quixotism, I was going to say, of this morning, though for a person of whom I know almost nothing, would urge me to every possible effort--were I certain the result would give pleasure to the person for whom alone--since with regard to himself,--I--it is merely----"
Involved in expressions he knew not how to clear or to finish, he was again without breath: and Camilla, raising her eyes, looked at him with astonishment.
Endeavouring then to laugh, "One would think," cried he, "this same Quixotism had taken possession of my intellects, and rendered them as confused as if, instead of an agent, I were a princ.i.p.al."--
Still wholly in the dark as to his aim, yet, satisfied by these last words, it had no reference to himself, she now lost enough of the acuteness of her curiosity to dare avow what yet remained; and begged him, without further preface, to be more explicit.