Camilla, distressed, hung her head, and would have forborne making any answer.
Mrs. Tyrold, then, putting down various packets which she was sorting and selecting, came suddenly up to her, and taking both her hands, looked earnestly in her face, saying: 'My Camilla! something has disquieted you?—your countenance is not itself. Tell me, my dear girl, what brought you hither this morning? and what is it you mean by some other inducement?'
'Do not ask me now, my dearest mother,' answered she, in a faltering voice; 'when you come back again, no doubt all will be over; and then—'
'And is that the time, Camilla, to speak to your best friends? would it not be more judicious to be explicit with them, while what affects you is still depending?'
Camilla, hiding her face on her mother's bosom, burst afresh into tears.
'Alas!' cried Mrs. Tyrold, 'what new evil is hovering? If it must invade me again through one of my children, tell me, at least, Camilla, it is not wilfully that you, too, afflict me? and afflict the best of fathers?'
Mr. Tyrold, dropping his pen, looked at them both with the most apprehensive anxiety.
'No, my dearest mother,' said Camilla, endeavouring to meet her eyes; 'not wilfully,—but something has happened—I can hardly myself tell how or what—but indeed Cleves, now—' she hesitated.
'How is my brother?' demanded Mr. Tyrold.
'O! all that is good and kind! and I grieve to quit him—but, indeed, Cleves, now—' Again she hesitated.