Still wholly in the dark as to his aim, yet, satisfied by these last words, it had no reference to himself, she now lost enough of the acuteness of her curiosity to dare avow what yet remained; and begged him, without further preface, to be more explicit. Stammering, he then said, that the evident admiration with which a certain gentleman was seen to sigh in her train, had awakened for him an interest, which had induced some inquiries into the state of his prospects and expectations. 'These,' he continued, 'turn out to be, though not high, nor by any means adequate to--to----however they are such as some previous friendly exertions, with settled future oeconomy, might render more propitious: and for those previous exertions--Mr. Tyrold has a claim which it would be the pride and happiness of my life to see him honour;--if--if--' The if almost dropt inarticulated: but he added--'I shall make some further enquiries before I venture to say any more.' 'For yourself, then, be they made, Sir!' cried she, suddenly seizing the whole of the meaning--'not for me?--whoever this person may be to whom you allude--to me he is utterly indifferent.' A flash of involuntary delight beamed in the eyes of Edgar at these words: he had almost thanked her, he had almost dropt the reins of his horse to clasp his hands: but filled only with her own emotions, without watching his, or waiting for any answer, she coldly bid him good night, and called to the coachman to drive fast home. Edgar, however, was left with a sunbeam of the most lively delight. 'He is wholly indifferent to her,' he cried, 'she is angry at my interference; she has but acted a part in the apparent preference--and for _me_, perhaps, acted it!' Momentary, however, was the pleasure such a thought could afford him;--'O, Camilla,' he cried, 'if, indeed, I might hope from you any partiality, why act any part at all?--how plain, how easy, how direct your road to my heart, if but straightly pursued!' CHAPTER V _Strictures on Deformity_ Camilla went on to Etherington in deep distress; every ray of hope was chaced from her prospects, with a certainty more cruel, though less offensive, to her feelings, than the crush given them by Miss Margland. He cares not for me! she cried; he even destines me for another! He is the willing agent of the Major; he would portion me, I suppose, for him, to accelerate the impossibility of ever thinking of me! And I imagined he loved me!--what a dream!--what a dream!--how has he deceived me!--or, alas! how have I deceived myself! She rejoiced, however, that she had made so decided an answer with regard to Major Cerwood, whom she could not doubt to be the person meant, and who, presented in such a point of view, grew utterly odious to her.