Madeline soon recovered herself, and attempted an explanation of the strange predicament in which he had found them; passing it off as a very good joke, and a further proof of her ungovernable volatility.
Edward remained silent. He would not reproach her, but he determined in his mind what course to pursue. He took leave of Madeline at her own door, and on entering his father's house, he told Juliet that she had better, as soon as possible, divest herself of her disguise. Juliet could not speak, but she wept on her brother's shoulder; and Edward kissed her cheek, and bade her good night.
She retired to bed, but she could not sleep; and in the morning she rose earlier than usual, and went into the parlour, where she knew she would find Edward. She looked very pale, and her eyes were swimming in tears. "Oh! Edward," said she, "what did my father and mother say, when they came home last night, and you told them all that happened?"
"I told them nothing," replied Edward, "I love you too well to betray you. I have kept your secret, and I shall never disclose it. But I must have a recompense."
Juliet. Any, any recompense, dearest Edward. What can you ask that I could possibly refuse.
Edward. I require you, from this day, to give up all acquaintance with Madeline Malcolm. Your infatuation for a girl who, under the name of wildness and volatility, sets all propriety at defiance, is to me astonishing. Henceforward let there be no more intimacy between you. It must be checked before it leads to consequences still worse than the adventures of last night.
Juliet. I acknowledge that Madeline is too regardless of decorum, and that she says and does many strange and improper things: but then she has so good a heart.
Edward. Tell me one proof of it. You have fallen into the common error of supposing that all persons who profess to be giddy, wild, and reckless, have kind feelings and good hearts. On the contrary, they may too often be classed with the most selfish, cold, and heartless people in the world; for they have seldom either sense or sensibility, and while resolutely bent on the gratification of their own whims, are generally regardless of the peace and convenience of those about them. When I first went to college I thought as you do. I supposed that the most careless, noisy, and desperate boys must necessarily have kind and generous feelings. But I found the contrary to my cost; and I am now convinced, that, with some few exceptions, the best hearts are generally united with the best heads and the best manners.
Juliet. But even if I never visit Madeline myself, how shall I prevent her running in to me as she does, two or three times a day?
Edward. Very easily. Write her a concise note, intimating that you do not consider it proper to continue your acquaintance with her.