Part 69 (2/2)
”Humph!” said Lord Lilburne, who was still rapidly glancing over the file--”Here is another advertis.e.m.e.nt which I never saw before: this looks suspicious: 'If the person who called on the -- of September, on Mr. Morton, linendraper, &c., of N----, will renew his application personally or by letter, he may now obtain the information he sought for.'”
”Morton!--the woman's brother! their uncle! it is too clear!”
”But what brings this man, if he be really Philip Morton, what brings him here!--to spy or to threaten?”
”I will get him out of the house this day.”
”No--no; turn the watch upon himself. I see now; he is attracted by your daughter; sound her quietly; don't tell her to discourage his confidences; find out if he ever speaks of these Mortons. Ha! I recollect--he has spoken to me of the Mortons, but vaguely--I forget what. Humph! this is a man of spirit and daring--watch him, I say,--watch him! When does Arthur came back?”
”He has been travelling so slowly, for he still complains of his health, and has had relapses; but he ought to be in Paris this week, perhaps he is there now. Good Heavens! he must not meet this man!”
”Do what I tell you! get out all from your daughter. Never fear: he can do nothing against you except by law. But if he really like Camilla--”
”He!--Philip Morton--the adventurer--the--”
”He is the eldest son: remember you thought even of accepting the second. He--nay find the witness--he may win his suit; if he likes Camilla, there may be a compromise.”
Mr. Beaufort felt as if turned to ice.
”You think him likely to win this infamous suit, then?” he faltered.
”Did not you guard against the possibility by securing the brother? More worth while to do it with this man. Hark ye! the politics of private are like those of public life,--when the state can't crush a demagogue, it should entice him over. If you can ruin this dog” (and Lilburne stamped his foot fiercely, forgetful of the gout), ”ruin him! hang him! If you can't” (and here with a wry face he caressed the injured foot), ”if you can't ('sdeath, what a twinge!), and he can ruin you,--bring him into the family, and make his secret ours! I must go and lie down--I have overexcited myself.”
In great perplexity Beaufort repaired at once to Camilla. His nervous agitation betrayed itself, though he smiled a ghastly smile, and intended to be exceeding cool and collected. His questions, which confused and alarmed her, soon drew out the fact that the very first time Vaudemont had been introduced to her he had spoken of the Mortons; and that he had often afterwards alluded to the subject, and seemed at first strongly impressed with the notion that the younger brother was under Beaufort's protection; though at last he appeared reluctantly convinced of the contrary. Robert, however agitated, preserved at least enough of his natural slyness not to let out that he suspected Vaudemont to be Philip Morton himself, for he feared lest his daughter should betray that suspicion to its object.
”But,” he said, with a look meant to win confidence, ”I dare say he knows these young men. I should like myself to know more about them.
Learn all you can, and tell me, and, I say--I say, Camilla,--he! he!
he!--you have made a conquest, you little flirt, you! Did he, this Vaudemont, ever say how much he admired you?”
”He!--never!” said Camilla, blus.h.i.+ng, and then turning pale.
”But he looks it. Ah! you say nothing, then. Well, well, don't discourage him; that is to say,--yes, don't discourage him. Talk to him as much as you can,--ask him about his own early life. I've a particular wish to know--'tis of great importance to me.”
”But, my dear father,” said Camilla, trembling and thoroughly bewildered, ”I fear this man,--I fear--I fear--”
Was she going to add, ”I fear myself?” I know not; but she stopped short, and burst into tears.
”Hang these girls!” muttered Mr. Beaufort, ”always crying when they ought to be of use to one. Go down, dry your eyes, do as I tell you,--get all you can from him. Fear him!--yes, I dare say she does!”
muttered the poor man, as he closed the door.
From that time what wonder that Camilla's manner to Vaudemont was yet more embarra.s.sed than ever: what wonder that he put his own heart's interpretation on that confusion. Beaufort took care to thrust her more often than before in his way; he suddenly affected a creeping, fawning civility to Vaudemont; he was sure he was fond of music; what did he think of that new air Camilla was so fond of? He must be a judge of scenery, he who had seen so much: there were beautiful landscapes in the neighbourhood, and, if he would forego his sports, Camilla drew prettily, had an eye for that sort of thing, and was so fond of riding.
Vaudemont was astonished at this change, but his delight was greater than the astonishment. He began to perceive that his ident.i.ty was suspected; perhaps Beaufort, more generous than he had deemed him, meant to repay every early wrong or harshness by one inestimable blessing.
The generous interpret motives in extremes--ever too enthusiastic or too severe. Vaudemont felt as if he had wronged the wronger; he began to conquer even his dislike to Robert Beaufort. For some days he was thus thrown much with Camilla; the questions her father forced her to put to him, uttered tremulously and fearfully, seemed to him proof of her interest in his fate. His feelings to Camilla, so sudden in their growth--so ripened and so favoured by the Sub-Ruler of the world--CIRc.u.mSTANCE--might not, perhaps, have the depth and the calm completeness of that, One True Love, of which there are many counterfeits,--and which in Man, at least, possibly requires the touch and mellowness, if not of time, at least of many memories--of perfect and tried conviction of the faith, the worth, the value and the beauty of the heart to which it clings;--but those feelings were, nevertheless, strong, ardent, and intense. He believed himself beloved--he was in Elysium. But he did not yet declare the pa.s.sion that beamed in his eyes.
No! he would not yet claim the hand of Camilla Beaufort, for he imagined the time would soon come when he could claim it, not as the inferior or the suppliant, but as the lord of her father's fate.
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