ed to work
upon thoughts and images, his repetitions rather succeeded in exposing
the piece of knowledge he had recently acquired than in making his
meaning plainer. So we need not marvel that his acquaintances should
suppose him to be secretly aware of an extreme degree in which Lady
Camper was a veteran.

General Ople entered into the gaieties of the neighbourhood once more,
and passed through the Winter cheerfully. In justice to him, however, it
should be said that to the intent dwelling of his mind upon Lady Camper,
and not to the festive life he led, was due his entire ignorance of
his daughter's unhappiness. She lived with him, and yet it was in other
houses he learnt that she was unhappy. After his last interview with
Lady Camper, he had informed Elizabeth of the ruinous and preposterous
amount of money demanded of him for a settlement upon her and Elizabeth,
like the girl of good sense that she was, had replied immediately, 'It
could not be thought of, papa.'

He had spoken to Reginald likewise. The young man fell into a dramatic
tearing-of-hair and long-stride fury, not ill becoming an enamoured
dragoon. But he maintained that his aunt, though an eccentric, was a
cordially kind woman. He seemed to feel, if he did not partly hint, that
the General might have accepted Lady Camper's terms. The young officer
could no longer be welcome at Douro Lodge, so the General paid him
a morning call at his quarters, and was distressed to find him
breakfasting very late, tapping eggs that he forgot to open--one of the
surest signs of a young man downright and deep in love, as the General
knew from experience--and surrounded by uncut sporting journals of
past weeks, which dated from the day when his blow had struck him, as
accurately as the watch of the drowned man marks his minute. Lady Camper
had gone to Italy, and was in communication with her nephew: Reginald
was not further explicit. His legs were very prominent in his
despair, and his fingers frequently performed the part of blunt combs;
consequently the General was impressed by his passion for Elizabeth. The
girl who, if she was often meditative, always met his eyes with a smile,
and quietly said 'Yes, papa,' and 'No, papa,' gave him little concern
as to the state of her feelings. Yet everybody said now that she was
unhappy. Mrs. Barcop, the widow, raised her voice above the rest. So
attentive was she to Elizabeth that the General had it kindly suggested
to him, that s