the dowry, to go out of the family! And Arthur, poor fellow! was
so extravagant, that really he would want every sixpence. Such was the
reasoning of the father. The mother reasoned less upon the matter. Mrs.
Beaufort, faded and meagre, in blonde and cashmere, was jealous of
the charms of her daughter; and she herself, growing sentimental
and lachrymose as she advanced in life, as silly women often do, had
convinced herself that Camilla was a girl of no feeling.

Miss Beaufort was, indeed, of a character singularly calm and placid; it
was the character that charms men in proportion, perhaps, to their own
strength and passion. She had been rigidly brought up--her affections
had been very early chilled and subdued; they moved, therefore, now,
with ease, in the serene path of her duties. She held her parents,
especially her father, in reverential fear, and never dreamed of the
possibility of resisting one of their wishes, much less their commands.
Pious, kind, gentle, of a fine and never-ruffled temper, Camilla, an
admirable daughter, was likely to make no less admirable a wife; you
might depend on her principles, if ever you could doubt her affection.
Few girls were more calculated to inspire love. You would scarcely
wonder at any folly, any madness, which even a wise man might commit
for her sake. This did not depend on her beauty alone, though she was
extremely lovely rather than handsome, and of that style of loveliness
which is universally fascinating: the figure, especially as to the arms,
throat, and bust, was exquisite; the mouth dimpled; the teeth dazzling;
the eyes of that velvet softness which to look on is to love. But her
charm was in a certain prettiness of manner, an exceeding innocence,
mixed with the most captivating, because unconscious, coquetry. With all
this, there was a freshness, a joy, a virgin and bewitching candour in
her voice, her laugh--you might almost say in her very movements. Such
was Camilla Beaufort at that age. Such she seemed to others. To her
parents she was only a great girl rather in the way. To Mrs. Beaufort a
rival, to Mr. Beaufort an encumbrance on the property.

CHAPTER II.

* * * "The moon
Saddening the solemn night, yet with that sadness
Mingling the breath of undisturbed Peace."
WILSON: City of the Plague

* * * "Tell me his fate.
Say that he lives, or say that he is dead
But tell me--tell me!
* * * * * *
I se