Complete Works of Frances Burney

Home > Other > Complete Works of Frances Burney > Page 161
Complete Works of Frances Burney Page 161

by Frances Burney


  The youthful group was much diverted with this unintended exhibition. To Eugenia alone it did not appear ridiculous; she simply envied his transports, and only wished to discover by what book they were excited. Edgar and Camilla amused themselves with conjecturing various authors; Indiana and Miss Margland required no such aid to pass their time, while, with at least equal delight, they contemplated the hoped-for prize.

  Lionel now bounced in: ‘Why what,’ cried he, ‘are you all doing in this musty old shop, when Mrs. Arlbery and all the world are enjoying the air on the public walks?’

  Camilla was instantly for joining that lady; but Eugenia felt an unconquerable curiosity to learn the running title of the book. She stole softly round to look over the shoulder of the reader, and her respect for his raptures increased, when she saw they were raised by Thomson’s Seasons.

  Neither this approach, nor the loud call of Lionel, had interrupted the attention of the young student, who perceived and regarded nothing but what he was about; and though occasionally he ceased reading to indulge in passionate ejaculations, he seemed to hold everything else beneath his consideration.

  Lionel, drawn to observe him from the circuit made by Eugenia, exclaimed: ‘What, Melmond! why, how long have you been in Hampshire?’

  The youth, surprised from his absence of mind by the sound of his own name, looked up and said: ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Why, when the deuce did you come into this part of the world?’ cried Lionel, approaching him to shake hands.

  ‘O! for pity’s sake,’ answered he, with energy, ‘don’t interrupt me!’

  ‘Why not? have not you enough of that dry work at Oxford? Come, come, have done with this boyish stuff, and behave like a man.’

  ‘You distract me,’ answered Melmond, motioning him away; ‘I am in a scene that entrances me to Elysium! I have never read it since I could appreciate it.’

  ‘What! old Thomson?’ said Lionel, peeping over him; ‘why, I never read him at all. Come, man! (giving him a slap on the shoulder) come along with me, and I’ll shew you something more worth looking at.’

  ‘You will drive me mad, if you break in upon this episode! ’tis a picture of all that is divine upon earth! hear it, only hear it!’

  He then began the truly elegant and feeling description that concludes Thomson’s Spring; and though Lionel, with a loud shout, cried: ‘Do you think I come hither for such fogrum stuff as that?’ and ran out of the shop; the ‘wrapt enthusiast’ continued reading aloud, too much delighted with the pathos of his own voice in expressing the sentiments of the poet, to deny himself a regale so soothing to his ears.

  Eugenia, enchanted, stood on tiptoe to hear him, her uplifted finger petitioning silence all around, and her heart fondly repeating, O just such a youth be Clermont! just such his passion for reading! just such his fervour for poetry! just such his exaltation of delight in literary yet domestic felicity!

  Mandlebert, also, caught by the rehearsal of his favourite picture of a scheme of human happiness, which no time, no repetition can make vapid to a feeling heart, stood pleased and attentive to hear him; even Indiana, though she listened not to the matter, was struck by the manner in which it was delivered, which so resembled dramatic recitation, that she thought herself at a play, and full of wonder, advanced straight before him, to look full in his face, and watch the motions of his right arm, with which he acted incessantly, while the left held his book. Miss Margland concluded he was a strolling player, and did not suffer him to draw her eyes from the locket. But when, at the words

  —— content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, Ease and alternate labour, useful life, Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven,

  Mandlebert turned softly round to read their impression on the countenance of Camilla — she was gone!

  Attracted by her wish to see more of Mrs. Arlbery, she had run out of the shop after Lionel, before she either knew what was reading, or was missed by those the reader had engaged. Edgar, though disappointed, wondered he should have stayed himself to listen to what had long been familiar to him, and was quietly gliding away when he saw her returning. He then went back to his post, wondering, with still less satisfaction, how she could absent herself from hearing what so well was worth her studying.

  The young man, when he came to the concluding line:

  To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign!

  rose, let fall the book, clasped his hands with a theatrical air, and was casting his eyes upwards in a fervent and willing trance, when he perceived Indiana standing immediately before him.

  Surprised and ashamed, his sublimity suddenly forsook him; his arms dropt, and his hands were slipt into his waistcoat pockets.

  But, the very next moment, the sensation of shame and of self was superseded by the fair object that had thus aroused him. Her beauty, her youth, her attitude of examination, struck him at first with an amazement that presently gave place to an admiration as violent as it was sudden. He started back, bowed profoundly, without any pretence for bowing at all, and then rivetting his eyes, in which his whole soul seemed centred, on her lovely face, stood viewing her with a look of homage, motionless, yet enraptured.

  Indiana, still conceiving this to be some sort of acting, unabashed kept her post, expecting every moment he would begin spouting something more. But the enthusiasm of the young Oxonian had changed its object; the charms of poetry yielded to the superior charms of beauty, and while he gazed on the fair Indiana, his fervent mind fancied her some being of celestial order, wonderfully accorded to his view: How, or for what purpose, he as little knew as cared. The play of imagination, in the romance of early youth, is rarely interrupted with scruples of probability.

  This scene of dumb transport and unfixed expectation, was broken up neither by the admirer nor the admired, but by the entrance of Mrs. Arlbery, Sir Sedley Clarendel, Lionel, the officers, and many of the rest of the company that had been present at the public breakfast: Nor would even this intrusion have disengaged the young Oxonian from his devout and ecstatic adoration, had it been equally indifferent to Indiana; but the appearance of a party of gay officers was not, to her, a matter of little moment. Eager for the notice in which she delighted, she looked round in full confidence of receiving it. The rapture of the Oxonian, as she had seen it kindled while he was reading, she attributed to something she did not understand, and took in it, therefore, no part; but the adulation of the officers was by no means ambiguous, and its acceptance was as obvious as its presentation.

  Willingly, therefore, as well as immediately encompassed, she received a thousand compliments, and in the gratification of hearing them, completely forgot her late short surprise; but the Oxonian, more forcibly struck, ardently followed her with his eyes, started back theatrically at every change of attitude which displayed her fine figure, and at her smiles smiled again, from the uncontrollable sympathy of a fascinated imagination.

  Miss Margland felt not small pride in seeing her pupil thus distinguished, since it marked the shrewdness of her capacity in foretelling the effect of bringing her forth. Anxious to share in a consequence to which she had industriously contributed, she paradingly forced her way through the group, and calling the attention of Indiana to herself, said: ‘I am glad you came away, my dear; for I am sure that man is only a poor strolling player.’

  ‘Dear! let me look at him again!’ cried Indiana; ‘for I never saw a player before; only at a play.’

  She then turned back to examine him.

  Enchanted to again meet her eyes, the youth bowed with intense respect, and advanced a few paces, as if with intention to speak to her, though immediately and with still more precipitance he retreated, from being ready with nothing to say.

  Lionel, going up to him, and pulling him by the arm, cried: ‘Why, man! what’s come to you? These are worse heroics than I have seen you in yet.’

  The bright eyes of Indiana being still fixed upon him, he disdained all notice of Lionel, beyond a silent repulse.<
br />
  Indiana, having now satisfied her curiosity, restored her attention to the beaux that surrounded her. The Oxonian, half sighing, unfolded his clasped hands, one of which he reposed upon the shoulder of Lionel.

  ‘Come, prithee, be a little less in alt,’ cried Lionel, ‘and answer a man when he speaks to you. Where did you leave Smythson?’

  ‘Who is that divinity; can you tell me?’ said the Oxonian in a low and respectful tone of inquiry.

  ‘What divinity?’

  ‘What divinity? insensible Tyrold! tasteless! adamantine! Look, look yonder, and ask me again if you can!’

  ‘O what; my cousin Indiana?’

  ‘Your cousin? have you any affinity with such a creature as that? O Tyrold! I glory in your acquaintance! she is all I ever read of! all I ever conceived! she is beauty in its very essence! she is elegance, delicacy, and sensibility personified!’

  ‘All very true,’ said Lionel; ‘but how should you know anything of her besides her beauty?’

  ‘How? by looking at her! Can you view that countenance and ask me how? Are not those eyes all soul? Does not that mouth promise every thing that is intelligent? Can those lips ever move but to diffuse sweetness and smiles? I must not look at her again! another glance may set me raving!’

  ‘May?’ cried Lionel, laughing; ‘why what have you been doing all this time? However, be a little less in the sublime, and I’ll introduce you to her.’

  ‘Is it possible? shall I owe to you so celestial a happiness? O Tyrold! you bind me to you for life!’

  Lionel, heartily hallowing, then brought him forward to Indiana: ‘Miss Lynmere,’ he cried, ‘a fellow student of mine, though somewhat more given to study than your poor cousin, most humbly begs the honour of kissing your toe.’

  The uncommon lowness of the bow which the Oxonian, ignorant of what Lionel would say, was making, led Miss Margland to imagine he was really going to perform that popish ceremony; and hastily pulling Lionel by the sleeve, she angrily said: ‘Mr. Lionel, I desire to know by whose authority you present such actor-men to a young lady under my care.’

  Lionel, almost in convulsions, repeated this aloud; and the young student, who had just, in a voice of the deepest interest and respect, begun, ‘The high honour, madam;’ hearing an universal laugh from the company, stopt short, utterly disconcerted, and after a few vainly stammering attempts, bowed again, and was silent.

  Edgar, who in this distress, read an ingenuousness of nature that counterpoised its romantic enthusiasm, felt for the young man, and taking Lionel by the arm, said: ‘Will you not introduce me also to your friend?’

  ‘Mr. Melmond of Brazen Nose! Mr. Mandlebert of Beech Park!’ cried Lionel, flourishing, and bowing from one to the other.

  Edgar shook hands with the youth, and hoped they should be better acquainted.

  Camilla, gliding round, whispered him: ‘How like my dear father was that! to give relief to embarrassment, instead of joining in the laugh which excites it!’

  Edgar, touched by a comparison to the person he most honoured, gratefully looked his acknowledgment; and all displeasure at her flight, even from Thomson’s scene of conjugal felicity, was erased from his mind.

  The company grew impatient for the raffle, though some of the subscribers were not arrived. It was voted, at the proposition of Mrs. Arlbery, that the master of the shop should represent, as their turns came round, those who were absent.

  While this was settling, Edgar, in some confusion, drew Camilla to the door, saying: ‘To avoid any perplexity about your throwing, suppose you step into the haberdasher’s shop that is over the way?’

  Camilla, who already had felt very awkward with respect to her withdrawn subscription, gladly agreed to the proposal, and begging him to explain the matter to Miss Margland, tript across the street, while the rafflers were crowding to the point of action.

  Here she sat, making some small purchases, till the business was over: The whole party then came forth into the street, and all in a body poured into the haberdasher’s shop, smiling, bowing, and of one accord wishing her joy.

  Concluding this to be in derision of her desertion, she rallied as well as she was able; but Mrs. Arlbery, who entered the last, and held the locket in her hand, said: ‘Miss Tyrold, I heartily wish you equally brilliant success, in the next, and far more dangerous lottery, in which, I presume, you will try your fate.’ And presented her the prize.

  Camilla, colouring, laughing, and unwillingly taking it, said: ‘I suppose, ma’am — I hope — it is yours?’ And she looked about for Edgar to assist her; but, he was gone to hasten the carriage.

  Every body crowded round her to take a last sight of the beautiful locket. Eager to get rid of it, she put it into the hands of Indiana, who regarded it with a partiality which her numerous admirers had courted, individually, in vain; though the young Oxonian, by his dramatic emotions, had engaged more of her attention than she had yet bestowed elsewhere. Eugenia too, caught by his eccentricity, was powerfully impelled to watch and admire him; and not the less, in the unenvying innocency of her heart, for his evident predilection in favour of her cousin. This youth was not, however, suffered to engross her; the stranger by whom she had already been distinguished at the ball and public breakfast, was one in the group, and resumed a claim upon her notice, too flattering in its manner to be repulsed, and too new to her extreme inexperience to be obtrusive.

  Meanwhile, Camilla gathered from Major Cerwood, that the prize had really fallen to her lot. Edgar had excused her not staying to throw for herself, but the general proxy, the bookseller, had been successful in her name.

  In great perplexity how to account for this incident, she apprehended Edgar had made some mistake, and determined, through his means, to restore the locket to the subscription.

  The carriage of Mrs. Arlbery was first ready; but, pushing away the throng of beaux offering assistance, she went up to Camilla, and said: ‘Fair object of the spleen of all around, will you bring a little of your influence with good fortune to my domain, and come and dine with me?’

  Delighted at the proposal, Camilla looked at Miss Margland; but Miss Margland, not being included in the invitation, frowned a refusal.

  Edgar now entered and announced the coach of Sir Hugh.

  ‘Make use of it as you can,’ said Mrs. Arlbery; ‘there is room for one more to go back than it brought; so pray do the honours prettily. Clarendel! take care of Miss Tyrold to my coach.’

  Sir Sedley smiled, and played with his watch chain, but did not move.

  ‘O you laziest of all lazy wretches!’ cried Mrs. Arlbery.

  ‘I shall reverse the epithet, and be the alertest of the alert,’ said Major Cerwood; ‘if the commission may be devolved to myself.’

  ‘Positively not for the world! there is nothing so pleasant as working the indolent; except, indeed, making the restless keep quiet; so, come forth, Clarendel! be civil, and strike us all with astonishment!’

  ‘My adored Mrs. Arlbery!’ cried he, (hoisting himself upon the shop counter, and swinging a switch to and fro, with a languid motion) your maxims are all of the first superlative, except this; but nobody’s civil now, you know; ’tis a fogramity quite out.’

  ‘So you absolutely won’t stir, then?’

  ‘O pray! pray!’ answered he, putting on his hat and folding his arms, ‘a little mercy! ’tis so vastly insufferably hot! Calcutta must be in the frigid zone to this shop! a very ice-house!’

  Camilla, who never imagined rudeness could make a feature of affectation, internally attributed this refusal to his pique that she had disregarded him at the public breakfast, and would have made him some apology, but knew not in what manner to word it.

  The Major again came forward, but Miss Margland, advancing also, said: ‘Miss Camilla! you won’t think of dining out unknown to Sir Hugh?’

  ‘I am sure,’ cried Mrs. Arlbery, ‘you will have the goodness to speak for me to Sir Hugh.’ Then, turning to Lionel, ‘Mr. Tyrold,’ she added, ‘you
must go with us, that you may conduct your sister safe home. Don’t be affronted; I shall invite you for your own sake another time. Come, you abominable Clarendel! awake! and give a little spring to our motions.’

  ‘You are most incommodiously cruel!’ answered he; ‘but I am bound to be your slave.’ Then calling to one of the apprentices in the shop: ‘My vastly good boy,’ he cried, ‘do you want to see me irrecoverably subdued by this immensely inhuman heat?’

  The boy stared; and said, ‘Sir.’

  ‘If not, do get me a glass of water.’

  ‘O worse and worse!’ said Mrs. Arlbery; ‘your whims are insupportable. I give you up! Major! advance.’

  The Major, with alacrity, offered his hand; Camilla hesitated; she wished passionately to go, yet felt she had no authority for such a measure. The name, though not the person of Mrs. Arlbery, was known both at Cleves and at Etherington, as belonging to the owner of a capital house in the neighbourhood; and though the invitation was without form, Camilla was too young to be withheld by ceremony. Her uncle, she was sure, could refuse her nothing; and she thought, as she was only a visitor at Cleves, Miss Margland had no right to control her; the pleasure, therefore, of the scheme, soon conquered every smaller difficulty, and, looking away from her party, she suffered herself to be led to the coach.

  Miss Margland as she passed, said aloud: ‘Remember! I give no consent to this!’

  But Eugenia, on the other side, whispered: ‘Don’t be uneasy; I will explain to my uncle how it all happened.’

 

‹ Prev