“This instant,” said Mrs. Beaumont, hesitating; but she saw that Mr. Palmer’s eye was upon her, so with a smile she complied immediately; and giving her hand graciously to Captain Walsingham, she accompanied him into a little reading-room within the drawing-room.
“May I hope that we are friends?” said Captain Walsingham; “may I hope so, Mrs. Beaumont—may I?”
“Good Heavens! Friends! assuredly; I hope so. I have always had and expressed the highest opinion of you, Captain Walsingham.”
“I have had one, and, hitherto, but one opportunity of showing myself, in any degree, deserving of your esteem, madam,” said Captain Walsingham. “When I was in this country some years ago, you must have seen how passionately I was in love with your daughter; but I knew that my circumstances were then such that I could not hope to obtain Miss Beaumont’s hand; and you will do me the justice to allow that I behaved with prudence. Of the difficulty of the task I alone can judge.”
Mrs. Beaumont declared, that she admired Captain Walsingham’s conduct inexpressibly, now that she understood what his feelings and motives had been; but really he had kept his own secret so honourably, that she had not, till within these few days, when it was let out by Mr. Walsingham to Mr. Palmer, had the most distant idea of his being attached to her daughter.
Captain Walsingham was too polite even to look a doubt of the truth of a lady’s assertion: he therefore believed, because it was impossible.
Mrs. Beaumont, determining to make her story consistent, repeated nearly what she had said to Mr. Palmer, and went on to confess that she had often, with a mother’s pride, perhaps, in her own secret thoughts wondered at the indifference Captain Walsingham showed towards Amelia.
Captain Walsingham was surprised that Mrs. Beaumont’s penetration should have been so strangely mistaken; especially as the symptoms of admiration and love must be so well known to a lady who had so many and such passionate admirers.
Mrs. Beaumont smiled, and observed, that Captain Walsingham, though a seaman, had all the address of a courtier, and she acknowledged that she loved address.
“If by address Mrs. Beaumont means politeness, I admire it as much as she does; but I disclaim and despise all that paltry system of artifice, which is sometimes called address. No person of a great mind ever condescends to use address in that sense of the word; not because they cannot, but because they will not.”