A Book for the Young | Page 7

whom he is perfectly
idolized and to whom he is, in return, devotedly attached."
"Come, that and helping poor Bennet, are certainly very redeeming traits; but will his
giving him a preference be doing justice to you, who have done so much, and will it
not--" here feeling she was going too far, she coloured.
Mr. Barclay too, was much confused; and Beatrice was greatly relieved when Mrs.
Fortescue turned the conversation. She had long remarked to herself, there was a mystery
about Mr. Barclay which she could not understand. There was, at times, a reserve she
attributed to pride. If not well born, he was quite au fait in all the usages of well-bred
society. He never spoke of his family, but Mrs. Fortescue once asked him if he had any
sisters, when he replied, "Two, such as any brother might be proud of;" but, while he
spoke, the blood mantled in his forehead, and fearing it might result from pride, she
dropped the subject, and, for the future, avoided saying anything that might recall it,
trusting that, in time, she might win his confidence.
Almost unconsciously to herself, was Ethelind, under the garb of friendship, indulging a
preference from which her delicacy shrank. She could plainly see a growing attachment
in Mr. Barclay to Beatrice, and could not, for a moment, suppose he could be insensible
to her friend's fascinations, which certainly were very great. She was the more convinced
that Mr. Barclay loved Beatrice, for his manners evidently changed, and, at times, he was
absent and thoughtful, and she sometimes fancied unhappy. Once it struck her, his
affections might be engaged elsewhere, and that Beatrice had shaken his faith to her to
whom it was plighted. She observed Beatrice using all her efforts to attract and win Mr.
Barclay, and yet she doubted if she were sincere. Many things in her conduct led to this
conclusion, and showed no little coquetry in her disposition. Be it as it may, she met Mr.
Barclay's attentions more than half way, and seemed never in such spirits as when with
him; at any rate, poor Ethelind's delicacy took the alarm, and she resolved to crush her
own growing attachment in the bud, and hide her feelings in reserve, and so great was her
self-command, that her love for Mr. Barclay, was unsuspected by all save her mother.
As Beatrice and Ethelind were returning one evening from a long walk, and being very
tired, they sat down on a bank facing the Towy to rest themselves, and watch the setting
sun sink behind the undulating mountains that almost surrounded them. They were, for
some minutes, so absorbed in the scene before them, that neither spoke; at last Beatrice
exclaimed:--
"What a pity it is, Ethelind, that you and Mr. Barclay never took it into your heads to fall
in love with each other; you would make such a capital clergyman's wife."
"Beatrice!" said Ethelind, "why talk thus; do you mean to say that you have been
insensible to his attachment to you?"
"I do not mean to say that," replied she, "but I can assure you, that if there is such a
feeling, it is only on his side."
"And yet, you have not only received, but met his attentions with such evident pleasure,
and given him such decided encouragement."
"Now, Ethy, how could I resist a flirtation with such an interesting character?"
"Oh, Beatrice, did you never think of the pain you might inflict by leading him to

suppose his affection was reciprocated."
"Never, my consciencious little Ethelind, he is too poor, nay, too good, for me to think
seriously of becoming his wife."
"Oh, Beatrice! I thought you had a more noble heart than to trifle with the affections of
such a man, particularly now there is a chance of recovering your property; you might be
so happy, and make him so too."
"And do, you think, if I do recover it, I should throw myself away on a poor curate, and
that I should like to lead such a quiet hum-drum life. No, my dear girl, I was never made
to appreciate such goodness or imitate it either."
"Then, of course, you will alter your conduct, ere you go too far, and not render him
wretched, perhaps for life."
"Of course, I shall do no such thing, his attentions are too pleasing; it does not appear he
will be here long, so I must make the most of the time."
"Oh, Beatrice, think what havoc you may make in the happiness of a worthy man; look at
his character; see his exemplary conduct; and could you, for the paltry gratification of
your vanity, condemn him to the pangs of unrequited love. He has now, I fear, the ills of