As soon as he could disengage himself from the Baronet, he leant also over the dog, and, in a low voice, said—'You have discarded, then, my poor flowers?'
'Have I not done right?' answered she, in the same tone; 'are they not where you must be far happier to see them?'
'Is it possible,' exclaimed he, 'Miss Camilla Tyrold can suppose——'. He stopt, for surprised off his guard, he was speaking loud, and he saw Miss Margland approaching.
'Don't you think, Mr. Mandlebert,' said she, 'that Miss Lynmere becomes a bouquet very much? she took a fancy to those flowers, and I think they are quite the thing for her.'
'She does them,' he coldly answered, 'too much honour.'
Ah, Heaven! he loves her not! thought Camilla, and, while trembling between hope and terror at the suggestion, determined to redouble her circumspection, not to confirm the suspicion that his indifference was produced by her efforts to attach him to herself.
She had soon what she conceived to be an occasion for its exertion. When he handed her some cakes, he said—'You would think it, I conclude, impertinent to hear anything more concerning Mrs. Arlbery, now you have positively opened an acquaintance with her?'
She felt the justice of this implied reproach of her broken promise; but she saw herself constantly watched by Miss Margland, and repressing the apology she was sighing to offer, only answered—'You have nothing, you own, to say against her reputation—and as to any thing else——'
'True,' interrupted he, 'my information on that point is all still in her favour: but can it be Miss Camilla Tyrold, who holds that to be the sole question upon which intimacy ought to depend? Does she account as nothing manners, disposition, way of life?'
'No, not absolutely as nothing,' said she, rising; 'but taste settles all those things, and mine is entirely in her favour.'