EARLY the next morning, Camilla went to the hotel, in the carriage of Mrs. Berlinton; eluding, though not without difficulty, the company of Mrs. Mittin. She found the party all in good spirits; Indiana, in particular, was completely elated; joined to the admiration she believed awaiting her in this large and fashionable town, she now knew she might meet there the only person who had ever excited in her youthful, and nearly vacant breast, any appropriate pleasure, super-added to the general zest of being adored. She did not, indeed, think of marrying any one who could not offer her a coach and four; but so little was she disturbed by thinking at all, that the delight of being adulated by the man she preferred, carried with it no idea of danger. Eugenia too, soothed with the delusions of her romantic but innocent fancy, flattered herself she might now see continually the object she conceived formed for meriting her ever reverential regard; and Miss Margland was importantly occupied upon affairs best suited to her taste and ancient habits, in deliberating how first to bring forth her fair charge with the most brilliant effect.
Camilla was much embarrassed how to parry an introduction to Mrs. Berlinton, upon which all the females built as the foundation of their Southampton prosperity; the young ones, already informed she was the sister of Melmond, languishing to know her for his sake; and Miss Margland, formerly acquainted with the noble family of her husband, being impatient to resume her claims in similar circles; but an awkward beginning apology was set aside by the entrance of Edgar and Dr. Marchmont.
Indiana now poured forth innumerable questions upon what she might look forward to with respect to balls and public places; Eugenia asked nearly as many concerning the buildings, antiquities, and prospects; and Miss Margland more than either, relative to the company, their genealogies and connexions. The two Doctors soon sat aloof, conferring upon less familiar matters; but Edgar only spoke in reply, and Camilla uttered not a word.
Soon after, a voice on the stairs called out, ‘O never mind shewing me the way; if I come to a wrong room, I’ll go on till I come to a right;’ and the next minute young Lynmere sallied into the apartment.
‘I could not get to you last night,’ cried he; ‘and I can only stay a moment now. I have a pretty serious business upon my hands; so if you can give me any breakfast, don’t lose time.’
Miss Margland, willing to please the brother of Indiana, readily ordered for him whatever the inn would afford, of which he failed not heartily to partake, saying, ‘I have met with a good comic sort of adventure here already. Guess what it is?’
Indiana complied; but his own wish to communicate was so much stronger than that of anyone to hear, that, before she could pronounce three words, he cried: ‘Well, if you’re so excessive curious, I’ll tell it you. I’m engaged in a duel.’
Indiana screamed; Miss Margland echoed her cry; Eugenia, who had looked down from his entrance, raised her eyes with an air of interest; Camilla was surprised out of her own concerns; and Edgar surveyed him with an astonishment not wholly unmixt with contempt; but the two Doctors went on with their own discourse.
‘Nay, nay, Dye, don’t be frightened; ’tis not a duel in which I am to fight myself; I am only to be second. But suppose I were first? what signifies? these are things we have in hand so often, we don’t think of them.’
‘La! brother! you don’t say so?’ cried Indiana: ‘La! how droll!’ He then pretended that he would tell nothing more.
Camilla inquired if he had seen Mr. Westwyn, whom she had met with the preceding day.
‘Not I, faith! but that’s a-propos enough; for it’s his son that has asked me to be his second.’
‘O, poor good old Mr. Westwyn!’ cried Camilla, now much interested in this history; ‘and can you not save him such a shock? can you not be mediator instead of second? he seems so fond of his son....’
‘O, as to him, it’s no matter; he’s such a harsh old hunks, I shall be glad to have him worked a little; I’ve often wanted to pull him by the nose, myself, he takes such liberties with me. But did you ever hear of such a fool as his son? he deserves to be badgered as bad as his father; he’s going to fight with as fine an honest fellow as ever I met with, for nothing at all! absolutely nothing!’
‘Dear! how droll!’ said Indiana.
‘But why can you not interfere?’ cried Camilla: ‘poor Mr. Westwyn will be made so unhappy if any evil befalls his son!’
‘O, faith, as to him, he may take it as he will; I shan’t trouble my head about him; he has made free enough with me, I can assure you; it’s only to have him out of the way, that the business is put off till noon; it was to have been in the morning, but the old tyrant took it into his pate to make poor Henry, who is one of your good ones, and does nothing to vex him on purpose, ride out with him; he has promised, however, to get off by twelve o’clock, when four of us are to be at a certain spot that I shan’t name.’
Camilla again began to plead the merits of the father; but Indiana more urgently demanded the reason of the combat. ‘I dare say, brother, they fight about being in love with somebody? don’t they, brother? now do tell me?’
‘Not a whit! it’s for a girl he don’t care a straw for, and never saw but once in his life, and don’t care a farthing if he never sees again.’
‘Dear, how droll, brother! I thought people always fought about being in love with somebody they wanted to marry; and never but when she was excessive pretty.’
‘O, faith, marriage seldom deserves a fighting match; but as to being pretty, that’s all Harry has in his excuse, so he pretends she’s as divine as an angel.’
‘Dear! well, and don’t you know anything more than that about it?’
‘No, nor he neither; he only saw her at a bathing house, where a fine jolly young buck was paying her a few compliments, that she affected not to like; and presently, in a silly dispute whether she was a girl of character, they had a violent quarrel, and Harry was such a fool as to end it with a challenge.’
At the words a bathing house, the blood forsook the checks of Camilla with sudden personal alarm; but it mounted high into them again, upon hearing the nature of the dispute; though yet again it sunk, and left them wholly pallid, at the brief and final conviction she was the sole cause of this duel, and upon so disgraceful a dispute.
The emotions of Edgar, though less fearful, were not less violent nor painful. That Camilla should be the subject of any challenge was shocking, but of such a one he thought a dishonour; yet to prevent, and with the least publicity, its effect, was the immediate occupation of his mind.
A short pause ensued, broken presently by Clermont, who, looking at his watch, suddenly jumped up, and calling out, ‘Faith, I shall be too late!’ was capering out of the room; but the shame of Camilla in the disgrace, was overpowered by her terror of its consequences, and starting up, and clasping her hands, ‘O cousin! O Clermont!’ she cried, ‘for Heaven’s sake stop this affair!’
Clermont, satisfied that a sufficient alarm was raised to impede the transaction, without any concession on his part, declared himself bound in honour to attend the appointment, and, in extreme seeming haste and earnestness, walked off: stopping, however, when he came to the door, not to listen to the supplications of his cousin, but to toss off a fresh cup of chocolate, which a waiter was just carrying to the next room.
Camilla now, her face varying in colour twenty times in a minute, and her whole frame shaking, while her eyes were cast, conscious and timid, on the floor, approached Edgar, and saying, ‘This young man’s father is my dear uncle’s friend!’ burst into tears.
Edgar, wholly dissolved, took her hand, pressed it to his lips, besought her, in a low voice, to dismiss her apprehensions, in the confidence of his most ardent exertions, and again kissing her hand, with the words, ‘Too... O, far too dear Camilla!’ hastened after Lynmere.
Affected in a thousand ways, she dropt, weeping, upon a chair. Should the duel take place, and any fatal consequences follow, she felt she should never be happy again; and even, should it be prevented, its very suggestion, from so horrible a doubt of her character, seemed a stain from which it could never recover. The inconsiderate facility with which she had wandered about with a person so little known to her, so underbred, and so forward, appeared now to herself inexcusable; and she determined, if but spared this dreadful punishment, to pass the whole of her future life in unremitting caution.
Eugenia, with the kindest sympathy, and Indiana and Miss Margland, with extreme curiosity, sought to discover the reason of her emotion; but while begging them to dispense with an explanation, old Mr. Westwyn was announced and appeared.
The horrors of a culprit, the most cruel as well as criminal, seemed instantly the portion of the self-condemned Camilla; and, as he advanced with cheerful kindness, to inquire after her health, his ignorance that all his happiness, through her means, was that moment at stake, pierced her with a suffering so exquisite, that she uttered a deep groan, and sunk back upon her chair.
An instant’s recollection brought her more of fortitude, though not of comfort; and springing up and addressing, though not looking at............