infallibly explain his regard if any he had. The more she had seen of him, the more inclined was she to like him, and the more desirous that he should like her. She was convinced of his being naturally very clever and very well disposed, and that his thoughtlessness and negligence, which tho' they appeared to her as very becoming in him, she was aware would by many people be considered as defects in his character, merely proceeded from a vivacity always pleasing in young men, and were far from testifying a weak or vacant understanding. Having settled this point within herself, and being perfectly convinced by her own arguments of its truth, she went to bed in high spirits; determined to study his character, and watch his behaviour still more the next day.
She got up with the same good resolutions and would probably have put them in execution, had not Anne informed her as soon as she entered the room that Mr. Edward Stanley was already gone. At first she refused to credit the information, but when her maid assured her that he had ordered a carriage the evening before to be there at seven o'clock in the morning and that she herself had actually seen him depart in it a little after eight, she could no longer deny her belief to it. "And this," thought she to herself blushing with anger at her own folly, "this is the affection for me of which I was so certain. Oh! what a silly thing is woman! How vain, how unreasonable! To suppose that a young man would be seriously attached in the course of four and twenty hours, to a girl who has nothing to recommend her but a good pair of eyes! And he is really gone! Gone perhaps without bestowing a thought on me! Oh! why was not I up by eight o'clock! But it is a proper punishment for my laziness and folly, and I am heartily glad of it. I deserve it all, and ten times more for such insufferable vanity. It will at least be of service to me in that respect; it will teach me in future not to think every body is in love with me. Yet I should like to have seen him before he went, for perhaps it may be many years before we meet again. By his manner of leaving us however, he seems to have been perfectly indifferent about it. How very odd, that he should go without giving us notice of it, or taking leave of any one! But it is just like a young man, governed by the whim of the moment, or actuated merely by the love of doing anything odd! Unaccountable beings indeed! And young women are equally ridiculous! I shall soon begin to think like my aunt that everything is going to sixes and sevens, and that the whole race of mankind are degenerating." She was just dressed, and on the point of leaving her room to make her personal enquires after Mrs. Percival, when Miss Stanley knocked at her door, and on her being admitted began in her usual strain a long harangue upon her father's being so shocking as to make Edward go at all, and upon Edward's being so horrid as to leave them at such an hour in the morning. "You have no idea," said she, "how surprised I was, when he came into my room to bid me good bye."
"Have you seen him then, this morning?" said Kitty.
"Oh yes! And I was so sleepy that I could not open my eyes. And so he said, 'Camilla, goodbye to you for I am going away. I have not time to take leave of any body else, and I dare not trust myself to see Kitty, for then you know I should never get away.'"
"Nonsense," said Kitty; "he did not say that, or he was in joke if he did."
"Oh! no I assure you he was as much in earnest as he ever was in his life; he was too much out of spirits to joke then. And he desired me when we all met at breakfast to give his compliments to your aunt, and his love to you, for you was a nice girl he said and he only wished it were in his power to be more with you. You were just the girl to suit him, because you were so lively and good-natured, and he wished with all his heart that you might not be married before he came back, for there was nothing he liked better than being here. Oh! You have no idea what fine things he said about you, till at last I fell asleep and he went away. But he certainly is in love with you. I am sure he is. I have thought so a great while I assure you."
"How can you be so ridiculous?" said Kitty smiling with pleasure; "I do not believe him to be so easily affected. But he did desire his love to me then? And wished I might not be married before his return? And said I was a nice girl, did he?"
"Oh! dear, yes, and I assure you it is the greatest praise in his opinion, that he can bestow on any body; I can hardly ever persuade him to call me one, tho' I beg him sometimes for an hour together."
"And do you really think that he was sorry to go."
"Oh! you can have no idea how wretched it made him. He would not have gone this month, if my father had not insisted on it; Edward told me so himself yesterday. He said that he wished with all his heart he had never promised to go abroad, for that he repented it more and more every day; that it interfered with all his other schemes, and that since Papa had spoke to him about it, he was more unwilling to leave Chetwynde than ever."
"Did he really say all this? And why would your father insist upon his going?" "His leaving England interfered with all his other plans, and his conversation with Mr. Stanley had made him still more averse to it." "What can this mean!" "Why that he is excessively in love with you to be sure; what other plans can he have? And I suppose my father said that if he had not been going abroad, he should have wished him to marry you immediately. But I must go and see your aunt's plants. There is one of them that I quite dote on—and two or three more besides."
"Can Camilla's explanation be true?" said Catharine to herself, when her friend had left the room. "And after all my doubts and uncertainties, can Stanley really be averse to leaving England for my sake only? 'His plans interrupted.' And what indeed can his plans be, but towards marriage. Yet so soon to be in love with me! But it is the effect perhaps only of the warmth of heart which to me is the highest recommendation in any one. A heart disposed to love—and such under the appearance of so much gaiety and inattention, is Stanley's. Oh! how much does it endear him to me! But he is gone—gone perhaps for years—obliged to tear himself from what he most loves, his happiness is sacrificed to the vanity of his father! In what anguish he must have left the house! Unable to see me, or to bid me adieu, while I, senseless wretch, was daring to sleep. This, then explained his leaving us at such a time of day. He could not trust himself to see me. Charming young man! How much must you have suffered! I knew that it was impossible for one so elegant, and so well bred, to leave any family in such a manner, but for a motive like this unanswerable." Satisfied, beyond the power of change, of this, she went in high spirits to her aunt's apartment, without giving a moment's recollection on the vanity of young women, or the unaccountable conduct of young men.
Kitty continued in this state of satisfaction during the remainder of the Stanleys' visit—who took their leave with many pressing invitations to visit them in London, when as Camilla said, she might have an opportunity of becoming acquainted with that sweet girl Augusta Halifax. Or rather (thought Kitty,) of seeing my dear Mary Wynne again. Mrs. Percival in answer to Mrs. Stanley's invitation replied that she looked upon London as the hot house of vice where virtue had long been banished from society and wickedness of every description was daily gaining ground—that Kitty was of herself sufficiently inclined to give way to and indulge in vicious inclinations, and therefore was the last girl in the world to be trusted in London, as she would be totally unable to withstand temptation.
After the departure of the Stanleys, Kitty returned to her usual occupations, but alas! they had lost their power of pleasing. Her bower alone retained its interest in her feelings, and perhaps that was owing to the particular remembrance it brought to her mind of Edward Stanley.
The summer passed away unmarked by any incident worth narrating, or any pleasure to Catharine save one, which arose from the receipt of a letter from her friend Cecilia now Mrs. Lascelles, announcing the speedy return of herself and husband to England.
A correspondence productive indeed of little pleasure to either party had been established between Camilla and Catharine. The latter had now lost the only satisfaction she had ever received from the letters of Miss Stanley, as that young lady having informed her friend of the departure of her brother to Lyons now never mentioned his name—her letters seldom contained any intelligence except a description of some new article of dress, an enumeration of various engagements, a panegyric on Augusta Halifax and perhaps a little
