Camilla; or, A Picture of Youth

Melmond, deeply distressed, besought his sister not to alight till the last moment. She pitied him too sincerely not to comply; and, in a very short time, she had herself an aggregate of almost all the gentlemen on the beach before the coach.

Among these, the first to press forward were the two Westwyns, each enraptured to again see Camilla; and the most successful in obtaining notice was Lord Valhurst, with whom Camilla still thought it prudent, however irksome, to discourse, rather than receive again the assiduities of Henry: but her mind, far from them all, was hovering on the edge of the shore, where Edgar was walking.

Edgar, for some time past, had joined the utmost uneasiness what conduct to pursue with regard to the friends of Camilla, to the heart-rending decision of parting from her for ever. He soon learnt the new and dangerous manner in which Mrs. Berlinton spent her evenings, and the idea that most naturally occurred to him, was imparting it to Mr. Tyrold. But in what way could he address that gentleman, without first knowing if Camilla had acquainted him with the step she had taken? He felt too strongly the severe blow it would prove, not to wish softening it with every palliation; and while these still lingering feelings awed his proceedings, his servant learnt, from Molly Mill, that Melmond had been favourably received at Cleves, as a suitor to Eugenia. Finding so near an alliance likely to take place with the brother, he gave up his plan of remonstrating against the sister, except in private counsel to Camilla; for which, and for uttering his fearful adieu, he was now waiting but to speak to her unobserved.

Still, however, with pain unabating he saw the eager approach to her of Henry, with disgust that of Lord Valhurst, and with alarm the general herd.

Lord Pervil, the young nobleman who deemed it worth while to be at the expence of several hundred pounds, in order to let the world know how old he was, now, with his mother, a widow lady, and some other relations, came down in a superb new equipage, to the water-side. Mrs. Berlinton could not be so singular, as not to join in the general crowd, that flocked around them with congratulations; and all parties, in a few minutes, were assembled on one spot.

Edgar, when he had spoken to the group to which the honours of the day belonged, made up to Camilla, gravely enquired after her health; and then placed himself as near to her as he was able, in the hope of conferring with her when the company began to move.

Her spirits now rose, and her prospects re-opened to their wished termination. All her regret was for Henry, who saw her present avoidance, and bemoaned her long absence, with a sadness that reproached and afflicted her.

A very fine yacht, and three large pleasure-boats, were in readiness for this company, surrounded by various other vessels of all sorts and conditions, which were filled with miscellaneous parties, who meant to partake the same gales for their own diversion or curiosity. The invited set was now summoned to the water, Lord Pervil and his relations leading the way by a small boat to the yacht, to which Mrs. Berlinton and the Cleves party were particularly selected guests.

Camilla, depending upon the assistance of Edgar, in passing through the boat to the yacht, so obviously turned from Henry, that he lost all courage for persevering in addressing her, and was even, though most unwillingly, retiring from a vicinity in which he seemed palpably obtrusive, had not his father insisted upon detaining him, whispering, 'Be of good heart, Hal! the girl will come round yet.'

Edgar kept equally near her, with a design that was the counterpart of her own wish, of offering her his hand when it was her turn to enter the boat; but they were both disappointed, the Peer, not waiting that rotation, presented her his arm as soon as Lady Pervil had led the way. There was no redress, though Camilla was as much provoked as either of the young rivals.

Lord Valhurst did not long exult in his victory; the unsteadiness of the boat made him rather want help for himself, than find force to bestow it upon another, and, upon mounting at the helm to pass her on to the yacht, he tottered, his foot slipt, and he must have sunk between the two vessels, had not a waterman caught him up, and dragged him into the yacht, with no further misfortune than a bruised shin, wet legs and feet, and a deplorably rueful countenance, from mingled fright and mortification.

Edgar, not wholly unsuspicious such an accident might happen, was darting into the boat to snatch Camilla from its participation, when he felt himself forcibly pulled back, and saw, at the same moment, Henry, who had also started forward, but whom nothing had retarded, anticipate his purpose, and aid her into the yacht.

Looking round to see by what, or by whom, he had so unaccountably been stopt, he perceived old Mr. Westwyn, his forefinger upon his nose in sign of silence and secrecy, grasping him by the coat.

'What is the humour of this, Sir?' cried he, indignantly.

Mr. Westwyn, still making his token for discretion, and bending forward to speak in his ear, said, 'Do, there's a good soul, let my boy help that young lady. Hal will be much obliged to you, I can tell you; and he's a very good lad.'

The nature of Edgar was too candid to suffer his wrath to resist a request so simple in sincerity; but deeply he sighed to find, by its implication, that the passion of Henry was thus still fed with hopes.

The passing of other ladies, with their esquires, prevented him, who had no lady he wished to conduct, from making his way yet into the yacht; and the honest old gentleman, detained by the same reason, entered promptly into the history of the present situation of his son with regard to Camilla; relating, frankly, that he thought her the sweetest girl in the world, except that she did not know her own mind; for she had been so pleased with his son first of all, that he really thought he should oblige her by making it a match: 'which I could not,' added he, 'have the heart to refuse to a girl that gave the boy such a good character. You'd be surprised to know how she took to him! you may be proud, says she to me, you may be proud of your son! which is what I shall never forget; for though I loved Hal just the same before, I never could tell but what it was only because he was my own. And I'm so afraid of behaving like a blind old goose, that I often snub Hal, when he's no more to blame than I am myself, for fear of his getting out of my hands, and behaving like a certain young man he has been brought up with, and who, I assure you, deserves to have his ears cropt ten times a day, for one piece of impudence or other. I should not have been sorry if he'd fallen into the water along with that old lord, whom I don't wish much good to neither; for, between friends, it seems to me that it's he that has put her out of conceit with my poor Hal: for all of a sudden, nobody can tell why nor wherefore, she takes it into her head there's nothing else worth listening to, but just his old compliments. And my poor Hal, after thinking she had such a kindness for him, that he had nothing to do but put on his best coat – for I told him I'd have none of his new-fangled modes of affronting my worthy old friend, by doing to him like a postillion, with a cropt head, and half a coat – after thinking he'd only to ask his consent, for he'd got mine without ever a word, all at once, without the least quarrel, or either I or Hal giving her the least offence, she won't so much as let him speak to her; but turns off to that old fellow that tumbled into the water there, and had near made her slip in after, if it had not been for my son's stopping her, which I sha'n't forget your kindness in letting him do; but what's more, she won't speak to me neither! though all I want is to ask her the reason of her behaviour! which I shall certainly do, if I can catch her any five minutes away from that lord; for you'll never believe what good friends we were, before she took so to him. We three, that is, she and I, and Hal, used to speak to nobody else, scarce. Poor Hal thought he'd got it all his own way. And I can't but own I thought as much myself; for there was no knowing she'd hold herself so above us, all at once. I assure you, if we don't bring her to, it will go pretty hard with us; for I like her just as well as Hal does. I'd have made over to them the best half of my income immediately.'

Edgar had never yet felt such serious displeasure against Camilla, as seized him upon this artless narrative. To have trifled thus, and, as he believed, most wantonly, with the feelings and peace of two amiable persons, whether from the vanity of making a new conquest, or the tyranny of persecuting an old one, shewed a love of power the most unjustifiable, and a levity the most unpardonable. And when he considered himself as exactly in the same suspensive embarrassment, as a young man of little more than a fortnight's acquaintance, he felt indignantly ashamed of so humiliating a rivalry, and a strong diminution of regret at his present purpose.

Melmond, meanwhile, pressed by his sister, seconded by his own sense of propriety, had forced himself to the Cleves' party; and, after bowing civilly to Miss Margland, who courteously smiled upon one who she imagined would become master of Cleves, and most profoundly to Indiana, who coloured, but deigned not the smallest salutation in return, offered his hand to Eugenia; but with a mind so absorbed, and steps so uncertain, that he was unable to afford her any assistance; and her lameness and helplessness made her so much require it, that she was in danger of falling every moment; yet she felt in Paradise; she thought him but enfeebled, as she was enfeebled herself, by a tender sensibility; and danger, therefore, was not merely braved, it was dear, it was precious to her.

Indiana now consoled her mortification, with the solace of believing a retaliation at hand, that would overcome the otherwise indelible disgrace of being superseded by Eugenia in a conquest. Full of her own little scheme, she imperiously refused all offers of aid, and walked on alone, till crossing the boat, she gave a shriek at every step, made hazardous by her wilful rejection of assistance, and acted over again the charm of terror, of which she well recollected the power upon a former occasion.

These were sounds to vibrate but too surely to the heart of Melmond; he turned involuntarily to look at her; her beauty had all its original enchantment; and he snatched away his eyes. He led on her whom still less he durst view; but another glance, thus surprised from him, shewed Indiana unguarded, unprotected; his imagination painted her immediately in a watery grave; and, seeing Eugenia safe, though not accommodated, he rushed back to the boat, and with trembling respect implored her to accept his aid.

Triumphant, now, she conceived herself in her turn, and looking at him with haughty disdain, said, she chose to go alone; and when again he conjured her not to risk her precious safety, added, 'You know you don't care about it; so pray go to your Miss Eugenia Tyrold.'

Young Melmond, delicate, refined, and well bred, was precisely amongst the first to feel, that a reply such as this must be classed amongst the reverse of those three epithets – had it come from any mouth but that of Indiana! – but love is deaf, as well as blind, to every defect of its chosen object, during the season of passion: from her, therefore, this answer, leaving unobserved the littleness and spleen which composed it, retained but so much of meaning as belongs to announcing jealousy, and in giving him that idea, filled him with sensations that almost tore him asunder.

Urged by her pique, she contrived, and with real risk, to jump into the yacht alone; though, if swayed by any less potent motive, she would sooner have remained in the boat the whole day. But what is the strength which may be put upon a par with inclination? and what the general courage that partial enterprise will not exceed?

Melmond, who only to some amiable cause could attribute whatever flowed from so beautiful an object, having once started the idea of jealousy, could give its source only to love: the impure spring of envy entered not into his suggestions. What, then, was his distraction, to think himself so greatly miserable! to believe he was secretly favoured by Indiana, at the instant of his first devoirs to another! Duty and desire were equally urgent to be heard; he shrunk in utter despondence from the two objects that seemed to personify both, and retreated, to the utmost of his power, from the sight of either.

Miss Margland had more than echoed every scream of Indiana, though nobody had seemed to hear her. Dr. Orkborne, the only beau she could compel into her service, was missing; her eye and voice alike every where demanded him in vain; he neither appeared to her view, nor answered her indignant calls. – Nor, indeed, though she forced his attendance, had she the most remote hope of inspiriting him to any gallantry: but still he was a man, and she thought it a mark of consequence to have one in her train; nor was it by any means nothing to her to torment Dr. Orkborne with her reproaches. To dispositions highly irascible, it is frequently more gratifying to have a subject of complaint than of acknowledgment.

The ladies being now all accommodated upon the deck, sailing orders were given, when an 'holla! holla!' making the company look round, Lynmere desired to be admitted. All the party intended for the yacht were already on board, and Lord Pervil told Mr. Lynmere he would find a very good place in one of the pleasure boats: but he answered he was just come from them, and preferred going in the yacht. Lord Pervil then only hoped the ladies would excuse being a little crowded. Edgar had already glided in, and Mr. Westwyn had openly declared, when asked to go to one of the boats, that he always went where Hal went, be it where it might.

Clermont, now, elbowing his way into a group of gentlemen, and addressing himself to young Halder, who was amongst them, said: 'Do you know what they've got to eat here?'

'No.'

'What the deuce! have not you examined the larder? I have been looking over the three boats, – there's nothing upon earth! – so I came to see if I could do any better here.'

Halder vowed if there were nothing to eat, he would sooner jump over board, and swim to shore, than go starving on.

'Starving?' said Mr. Westwyn, 'why I saw, myself, several baskets of provisions taken into each of the boats.'

'Only ham and fowls,' answered Clermont, contemptuously.

'Only ham and fowls? why what would you have?'

'O the d – l,' answered he, making faces, 'not that antediluvian stuff! any thing's better than ham and fowls.'

'Stilton cheese, for instance?' cried Mr. Westwyn, with a wrathful sneer, that made Clermont, who could not endure, yet, for many reasons, could not resent it, hastily decamp from his vicinity.

Mr. Westwyn, looking after the young epicure with an expression of angry scorn, now took the arm of Edgar, whose evident interest in his first communication encouraged further confidence, and said: 'That person that you see walk that way just now, is a fellow that I have a prodigious longing to give a good caning to. I can't say I like him; yet he's nephew and heir to the very best man in the three kingdoms. However, I heartily hope his uncle will disinherit him, for he's a poor fool as well as a sorry fellow. I love to speak my mind plainly.'

Edgar was ill-disposed to conversation, and intent only upon Camilla, who was now seated between Mrs. Berlinton and Eugenia, and occupied by the fine prospects every where open to her; yet he explained the error of Clermont's being heir, as well as nephew, to Sir Hugh; at which the old gentleman, almost jumping with surprise and joy, said: 'Why, then who's to pay all his debts at Leipsic? I can't say but what I'm glad to hear this. I hope he'll be sent to prison, with all my heart, to teach him a little better manners. For my old friend will never cure him; he spoils young people prodigiously. I don't believe he'd so much as give 'em a horse-whipping, let 'em do what they would. That i'n't my way. Ask Hal!'

Here he stopt, disturbed by a new sight, which displaced Clermont from his thoughts.

Camilla, to whom the beauties of nature had mental, as well as visual charms, from the blessings, as well as pleasure, she had from childhood been instructed to consider as surrounding them, was so enchanted by the delicious scenery every way courting her eyes, the transparent brightness of the noble piece of water upon which she was sailing, the richness and verdure of its banks, the still and gently gliding motion of the vessel, the clearness of the heavens, and the serenity of the air, that all her cares, for a while, would have been lost in admiring contemplation, had she not painfully seen the eternal watching of Henry for her notice, and gathered from the expression of his eyes, his intended expostulation. The self-reproach with which she felt how ill she could make her defence, joined to a sincere and generous wish to spare him the humiliation of a rejection, made her seek so to engage herself, as to prevent the possibility of his uttering two sentences following. But as this was difficult with Eugenia, who was lost in silent meditation upon her own happiness, or Mrs. Berlinton, who was occupied in examining the beauty so fatal to the repose of her brother, she had found such trouble in eluding him, that, when she saw Lord Valhurst advance from the cabin, where he had been drying and refreshing himself, she welcomed him as a resource, and, taking advantage of the civility she owed him for what he had suffered in esquiring her, gave him her sole attention; always persuaded his admiration was but a sort of old fashioned politeness, equally without design in itself, or subject for comment in others.

But what is so hard to judge as the human heart? The fairest observers misconstrue all motives to action, where any received prepossession has found an hypothesis. To Edgar this conduct appeared the most degrading fondness for adulation, and to Mr. Westwyn a tyrannical caprice, meant to mortify his son. 'I hope you saw that! I hope you saw that!' cried he, 'for now I don't care a pin for her any longer! and if Hal is such a mere fool as ever to think of her any more, I'll never see his face again as long as I live. After looking askew at the poor boy all this time, to turn about and make way for that nasty old fellow; as who should say, I'll speak to nothing but a lord! is what I shall never forgive; and I wish I had never seen the girl, nor Hal neither. I can't say I like such ways. I can't abide 'em.'

A sigh that then escaped Edgar, would have told a more discerning person, that he came in for his ample share in the same wish.

'And, after all,' continued he, 'being a lord is no such great feat that ever I could learn. Hal might be a lord too, if he could get a title. There is nothing required for it but what any man may have; nobody asks after what he can do, or what he can say. If he's got a good head, it's well; and if he has not, it's all one. And that's what you can't say of such a likely young fellow as my son. You may see twenty for one that's as well looking. Indeed, to my mind, I don't know that ever I saw a prettier lad in my life. So she might do worse, I promise her, though she has used my son so shabbily. I don't like her the better for it, I assure her; and so you may tell her, if you please. I'm no great friend to not speaking my mind.'

The fear of being too late for the evening's arrangements, made Lord Pervil, after a two hours sail, give orders for veering about: the ladies were advised to go into the cabin during this evolution, and Camilla was amongst those who most readily complied, for the novelty of viewing what she had not yet seen. But when, with the rest, she was returning to the deck, Lord Valhurst, who had just descended, entreated her to stop one moment.

Not at all conjecturing his reason, she knew not how to refuse, but innocently begged him to speak quick, as she was in haste, not to lose any of the beautiful landscapes they were passing.

'Ah what,' cried the enamoured peer, 'what in the world is beautiful in any comparison with yourself? To me no possible object can have such charms; and I have now no wish remaining but never to lose sight of it.'

Amazed beyond all measure, she stared at him a moment in silence, and then, confirmed by his looks that he was serious, would have left the cabin with precipitance: but, preventing her from passing; 'Charming Miss Tyrold!' he cried, 'let the confession of my flame meet your favour, and I will instantly make my proposals to your friends.'

To Camilla this offer appeared as little delicate, as its maker was attractive; yet she thought herself indebted for its general purport, and, as soon as her astonishment allowed her, gracefully thanked him for the honour of his good opinion, but entreated him to make no application to her friends, as it would not be in her power to concur in their consent.

Concluding this to be modest shyness, he was beginning a passionate protestation of the warmth of his regard, when the effusion was stopt by the appearance of Edgar.

Little imagining so serious a scene to be passing as the few words he now gathered gave him to understand, his perplexity at her not returning with the other ladies, made him suggest this to be a favourable moment to seize for following her himself, and demanding the sought, though dreaded conference. But when he found that his lordship, instead of making, as he had supposed, his usual fond, yet unmeaning compliments, was pompously offering his hand, he precipitately retired.