‘From Mervyn and his spy one could expect no delicacy,’ said Bertha, ‘but in you it was treachery.’
‘No, Bertha,’ said Phœbe, ‘I was grieved to expose you, but it was my duty to clear the innocent by examining the letter, and Mervyn had a right to know what concerned you when you were under his charge. It is our business to save you, and a letter sent in this way does not stand on the same ground as one coming openly under your own name. But I did not read it to him, Bertha—not all.’
‘If you had,’ said Bertha, more piqued than obliged by this reserve, ‘he would have known it was in earnest and not childish nonsense. You saw that it was earnest, Phœbe?’ and her defiant voice betrayed a semi-distrust.
‘I am afraid it looked very much so,’ said Phœbe; ‘but, Bertha, that would be saddest of all. I am afraid he might be wicked enough to be trying to get your fortune, for indeed—don’t be very much vexed, dearest, I am only saying it for your
good—you are not old enough, nor formed, nor pretty enough, really to please a man that has seen so much of the world.’
‘He never met so fresh, or original, or so highly cultivated a mind,’ said Bertha; ‘besides, as to features, there may be different opinions!’
‘But, Bertha, how could you ever see him or speak to him?’
‘Hearts can find more ways than you dream of,’ said Bertha, with a touch of sentiment; ‘we had only to meet for the magnetism of mind to be felt!’
Argument was heartless work. Flattery and the glory of her conquest had entirely filled the child’s mind, and she despised Mervyn and Phœbe far too much for the representations of the one or the persuasions of the other to have the smallest weight with her. Evidently, weariness of her studies, and impatience of discipline had led her to lend a willing ear to any distraction, and to give in to the intercourse that both gratified and amused herself and outwitted her governess, and thence the belief in the power of her own charms, and preference for their admirer, were steps easier than appeared credible to Phœbe. From listening in helpless amaze to a miserable round of pertness and philosophy, Phœbe was called down-stairs to hear that Mervyn had been examining Jane Hart, and had elicited from her that after having once surprised Mr. Hastings and Miss Bertha in conversation, she had several times conveyed notes between them, and since he had left Beauchamp, she had posted two letters to him from the young lady, but this was the first answer received, directed to herself, to be left at the post-office to be called for.
‘Earnest enough on his part,’ said Mervyn; ‘a regular speculation to patch up his fortunes. Well, I knew enough of him, as I told you, but I was fool enough to pity him!’