“True—and if so, what stronger argument can be brought against your thinking of him?”
“I do not think of him—I endeavour not to think of him.”
“That is my own girl! Depend upon it, he thinks not of you. He is all in his profession—prefers it to every woman upon earth. I have heard him say he would not give it up for any consideration. All for glory, you see; nothing for love.”
Amelia sighed. Her mother rose, and kissing her, said, as if she took every thing she wished for granted, “So, my Amelia, I am glad to see you reasonable, and ready to show a spirit that becomes you—Sir John Hunter breakfasts here to-morrow.”
“But,” said Amelia, detaining her mother, who would have left the room, “I cannot encourage Sir John Hunter, for I do not esteem him; therefore I am sure I can never love him.”
“You cannot encourage Sir John Hunter, Amelia?” replied Mrs. Beaumont. “It is extraordinary that this should appear to you an impossibility the very moment the gentleman proposes for you. It was not always so. Allow me to remind you of a ball last year, where you and I met both Sir John Hunter and Captain Walsingham; as I remember, you gave all your attention that evening to Sir John.”
“Oh, mother, I am ashamed of that evening—I regret it more than any evening of my life. I did wrong, very wrong; and bitterly have I suffered for it, as people always do, sooner or later, by deceit. I was afraid that you should see my real feelings; and, to conceal them, I, for the first and last time of my life, acted like a coquette. But if you recollect, dear mother, the very next day I confessed the truth to you. My friend, Miss Walsingham, urged me to have the courage to be sincere.”
“Miss Walsingham! On every occasion I find the secret influence of these Walsinghams operating in my family,” cried Mrs. Beaumont, from a sudden impulse of anger, which threw her off her guard.
“Surely their influence has always been beneficial to us all. To me, Miss Walsingham’s friendship has been of the greatest service.”
“Yes; by secretly encouraging you, against your mother’s approbation, in a ridiculous passion for a man who neither can nor will marry you.”