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 parlour.

His manner was hurried, though he appeared gay and frisky as usual; Camilla felt a little alarmed; but Mrs. Arlbery asked if he would accompany them.

With all his heart, he answered, only he must first 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. Dennel objected to letting his horses wait.

‘Send them back for us, then,’ cried Lionel, with his customary ease, ‘and we will follow you.’

Mr. Dennel again objected to making his horses so often mount the hill; but Lionel assuring him 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 master of the subject, Mr. Dennel submitted, and the brother and sister were left tête-à-tête.

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,-write 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.’

‘O 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 to be 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–I have solemnly engaged myself to apply to him no more.’

‘That was, for me, my dear; but where can your thoughts be wandering? Why you must ask for this, as if it were for yourself.’

‘For myself!’

‘Yes, certainly. You know he won’t give it else.’

‘Impossible! what should I want two hundred pounds for?’

‘O, 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 are 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 places 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 delude 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 matter. 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?’

‘Account, 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?’

‘Pho, pho!’

‘Major Cerwood?’

‘No, never!’

‘I once thought Edgar Mandlebert had a sneaking kindness for you. But I believe it is 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 now-a-days.’

‘And what do you mean to be the end of it all, Lionel? How do you purpose living when all these resources are completely exhausted?’

‘When I am ruined, you mean? why how do other people live when they’re 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 us see.’

‘O, I don’t mean so; I don’t mean just now; in this mere idle manner,–’

‘O, yes, I’ll do it at once, and then it will be over. Faith I don’t well know. I have no great gusta 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 and prime and vigour in the king’s bench prison. ’Tis horribly tiresome to reside always on the same spot. Nor I have 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 is this your consideration, Lionel? And is this its conclusion?’

‘Why what signifies dwelling upon such dismalties? If I think upon my ruin beforehand, I am no nearer to enjoyment now than then. Live while we live, my dear girl! I hate prophesying horrors. Write, I say, write!’

Again she absolutely refused, pleading her promise to her uncle, and declaring she would keep her word.

‘Keep a fiddlestick!’ 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 twenty 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 are not forming any connexion unknown to my father?’

‘Ha, ha, ha!’ cried Lionel laughing 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 an hunks, and of a mother to be a bore.’

‘O Lionel! such a father!-such a mother!–’

‘As to their 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 po............