For the last few weeks, her spirits had been kept up to an unnatural pitch of excitement, and she had danced late, and walked early, without shewing the slightest fatigue; but now her nerves suffered from reaction; and sleepless nights, and fatiguing days, all seemed to oppress her then; and before that evening had closed in, her burning brow, which could scarcely find rest upon the pillow—her parched lips, and feverish pulse, frightened her companion, and she hastened to Mrs. Villars, begging her, that she might be allowed to send for a doctor.
"What!" exclaimed the latter, indignantly, when she heard this request, and speaking very loud; "what! send for Mr. Mildman, that he may carry the scandal all over Bath? No; I will do no such thing. She never took to these absurd whims, till she went to Aston, and I will not have them, and that you may tell her. Say, it is my wish that she should get up and shew herself."
"Shew herself where?" thought Mabel, as she slowly retreated; "in the Pump-room—the assembly rooms—or the crowded streets? and what chance of real comfort could they offer? callous they might indeed make her to the sufferings of life, but to its better feelings also." And she returned, with renewed diligence to the couch of her restless patient, resolved that no want of kindness at home, should make her seek it abroad; but she was soon convinced, also, that her aunt was so far right in believing that Lucy's sufferings were rather mental than bodily.
She seemed sullen and selfish in her grief; and, heedless of her cousin's presence, she would turn her face away, or, burying it in the clothes, seemed resolved to hug her disappointment, as closely as she had cherished her former infatuation. She answered, with peevish bitterness, any attempt to cheer her, and when her mother or sisters paid her a visit, she obstinately refused, either to speak or listen to them. This conduct they were little inclined to bear; and one after another, as she gave up the task, readily agreed, that, as Mabel did not mind it, it was better to leave the two alone; so that she spent her time almost entirely in the sick room, unless when she went down to the study to give some passing word to Mr. Villars, and to run away with some passage which he wished copied. As she was one day returning from him, a servant handed her a letter, which she stopped on the landing-place to read—it ran as follows:—
"Miss Lesly will, I trust, pardon the liberty I am now taking in addressing her—and will allow me, through her, to say some words in vindication of myself to Miss Lucy Villars—and to tell her, that, when I first sought an introduction to her, it was under the impression that she was the bosom friend of my wife, from whom circumstances had separated me—and with the hope that she might aid me in obtaining a quiet reconciliation. That we never spoke openly on the subject, I allow—but I frequently alluded to it—believing that she understood me. That she did not, I lament; and if in the course of our friendship, I have displayed so much of my admiration for her artless candour, and ingenuous beauty, as to place my sentiments in a doubtful light, I most sincerely repent having done so, and entreat her to forgive me. Again soliciting Miss Lesly's pardon, and begging her to convey all the apology which a delicate mind can with delicacy accept, I remain, her obedient servant,
"Alfred Beauclerc."
At this moment Hargrave ascended the stairs, and Mabel handed him the letter, saying—
"Pray read this, for you are a better judge of character than I am."
"You cannot, then," replied Hargrave, "detect the deception which prevents some people from reading themselves. Now I really do not think this man knew he was exactly flirting, for the knowledge that he was a married man made him admire the confidence and freedom which would have disgusted him had he been single."
"Why?"
"Because," replied Hargrave, smiling, "he would have suspected motives, which, being married, he knew could not exist."