Alarmed by her paleness and agitation, he hastily demanded the cause of her disorder, willing to believe, notwithstanding what he had seen, that it did not proceed from the sight of Colonel Belgrave. “O take me, take me from this room!” was all, in faltering accents, Amanda could pronounce, still leaning on him for support. Colonel Belgrave inquired tenderly what he could do to serve her, and at the same time attempted to take her hand. She shrunk from his touch with a look expressive of horror, and again besought Sir Charles to take her from the room, and procure her a conveyance home. Her agitation now became contagious. It was visible to Sir Charles that it proceeded from seeing Colonel Belgrave, and he trembled as he supported her.
Belgrave offered his services in assisting to support her from the room, but she motioned with her hand to repulse him.
At the door they met Lord Mortimer entering. Terrified by the situation of Amanda, all caution, all reserve forsook him, and his rapid and impassioned inquiries betrayed the tender interest she had in his heart. Unable to answer them herself, Sir Charles replied for her, saying, “She had been taken extremely ill after dancing,” and added, “he would resign her to his lordship’s protection while he went to procure her a chair.”
Lord Mortimer received the lovely trembler in his arms. He softly called her his Amanda, the beloved of his soul, and she began to revive. His presence was at once a relief and comfort to her, and his language soothed the perturbations of her mind; but as she raised her head from his shoulder, she beheld Colonel Belgrave standing near them. His invidious eyes fastened on her. She averted her head, and, saying the air would do her good, Lord Mortimer led her forward, and took this opportunity of expressing his wishes for the period when he should be at liberty to watch over her with guardian care, soothe every weakness and soften every care.
In a few minutes Sir Charles returned, and told her he had procured a chair. She thanked him with grateful sweetness for his attention, and requested Lord Mortimer to acquaint the ladies with the reason of her abrupt departure. His lordship wished himself to have attended her to Portman Square, but she thought it would appear too particular, and would not suffer him. She retired to her room immediately on her return, and endeavored, though unsuccessfully, to compose her spirits.
The distress she suffered from Belgrave’s conduct had left an impression on her mind which could not be erased. The terror his presence inspired was too powerful for reason to conquer, and raised the most gloomy presages in her mind. She believed him capable of any villany. His looks had declared a continuance of illicit love. She trembled at the idea of his stratagems being renewed. Her apprehensions were doubly painful from the necessity of concealment, lest those dearer to her than existence should be involved in danger on her account. To Heaven she looked up for protection, and the terrors of her heart were somewhat lessened, conscious that Heaven could render the aims of Belgrave against her peace as abortive as those against her innocence had been.
Sir Charles Bingley parted from Lord Mortimer immediately after Amanda’s departure, and returned arm in arm with Belgrave to the room. “Belgrave,” said he abruptly, after musing some minutes, “you know Miss Fitzalan?”
Belgrave answered not hastily. He appeared as if deliberating on the reply he should give. At last, “I do know Miss Fitzalan,” cried he; “her father was my tenant in Devonshire; she is one of the loveliest girls I ever knew.” “Lovely, indeed,” said Sir Charles, with a deep and involuntary sigh; “but it is somewhat extraordinary to me that, instead of noticing you as a friend or acquaintance, she should look alarmed and agitated, as if she had seen an enemy.” “My dear Bingley,” exclaimed Belgrave, “surely at this time of day you cannot be a stranger to the unaccountable caprices of the female mind.” “’Tis very extraordinary to me, I own,” resumed Sir Charles, “that Miss Fitzalan should behave as she did to you. Were you and her family ever very intimate?”
An invidious smile lurked on Belgrave’s countenance at this question.
“Belgrave,” exclaimed Sir Charles, passionately, “your manner appears so mysterious that it distracts me. If friendship will not induce you to account for it, my intentions relative to Miss Fitzalan will compel me to insist on your doing so.” “Come, come, Bingley,” replied the colonel, “this is not a country for extorting confession. However, seriously, you might depend on my honor, exclusive of my friendship, to conceal nothing from you in which you were materially interested.” So saying, he snatched away his arm, rushed into the crowd, and instantly disappeared.