Observing that Mr. Palmer looked dissatisfied, Mrs. Beaumont continued apologizing. “I confess you have to all appearance some cause to be angry with me,” said she: “but now only hear me. Taking the blame upon myself, let me candidly tell you the whole truth, and all my reasons, foolish perhaps as they were. Captain Walsingham behaved so honourably, and had such command over his feelings, that I, who am really the most credulous creature in the world, was so completely deceived, that I fancied he never had a thought of Amelia, and that he never would think of her; and I own this roused both my pride and my prudence for my daughter; and I certainly thought it my duty, as her mother, to do every thing in my power to discourage in her young and innocent heart a hopeless passion. It was but within these few hours that I have been undeceived by you as to his sentiments. That, of course, made an immediate change, as you have seen, in my measures; for such is my high opinion of the young man, and indeed my desire to be connected with the Walsinghams is so great, that even whilst I am in total ignorance of what the amount or value may be of this prize that he has taken, and even whilst I am in doubt concerning this Spanish incognita, I have not hesitated to declare, perhaps imprudently, to Amelia, as you have just heard, my full approbation of the choice of her heart.” “Hum!--well--hey!--How’s this?” said Mr. Palmer to himself, as he tried to believe and to be satisfied with this apology. “Madam,” said he aloud to Mrs. Beaumont, “I comprehend that it might not be prudent to encourage Amelia’s partiality for Captain Walsingham till you were sure of the young man’s sentiments; but, excuse me, I am a very slow, unpractised man in these matters; I don’t yet understand why you told _me_ that she was in love with Sir John Hunter?” Mrs. Beaumont, being _somewhat in the habit of self-contradiction_, was seldom unprovided with a concordance of excuses; but at this unlucky moment she was found unprepared. Hesitating she stood, all subtle as she was, deprived of ready wit, and actually abashed in the presence of a plain good man. “I candidly confess, my dear sir,” said she, apologizing to Mr. Palmer as he walked up and down, “that my delicacy or pride,--call it what you will,--my false pride for my daughter, led me into an error. I could not bring myself to acknowledge to any man, even to you--for you know that it’s contrary quite to the principles and pride of our sex--that she felt any partiality for a man who had shown none for her. You must be sensible it was, to say no more, an awkward, mortifying thing; and I was so afraid even of your finding it out, that--forgive me--I did, I candidly acknowledge, fabricate the foolish story of Sir John Hunter. But, believe me, I never seriously thought of her marrying him.” “‘Fore George! I don’t understand one word of it from beginning to end,” said Mr. Palmer, speaking aloud to himself.