e; the blood fled to his heart, his frame
trembled, his knees tottered, his passive hand scarcely retained hers;
he could not speak. All the possible results of this return flashed
across his mind, and presented themselves in terrible array to his
alarmed imagination. He could not meet Mr. Temple; that was out of the
question. Some explanation must immediately and inevitably ensue, and
that must precipitate the fatal discovery. The great object was to
prevent any communication between Mr. Temple and Sir Ratcliffe before
Ferdinand had broken his situation to his father. How he now wished he
had not postponed his departure for Bath! Had he only quitted Armine
when first convinced of the hard necessity, the harrowing future would
now have been the past, the impending scenes, however dreadful, would
have ensued; perhaps he might have been at Ducie at this moment, with
a clear conscience and a frank purpose, and with no difficulties to
overcome but those which must necessarily arise from Mr. Temple's
natural consideration for the welfare of his child. These, however
difficult to combat, seemed light in comparison with the perplexities
of his involved situation. Ferdinand bore Henrietta to a seat, and hung
over her in agitated silence, which she ascribed only to his sympathy
for her distress, but which, in truth, was rather to be attributed to
his own uncertain purpose, and to the confusion of an invention which he
now ransacked for desperate expedients.
While he was thus revolving in his mind the course which he must now
pursue, he sat down on the ottoman on which her feet rested, and pressed
her hand to his lips while he summoned to his aid all the resources
of his imagination. It at length appeared to him that the only mode
by which he could now gain time, and secure himself from dangerous
explanations, was to involve Henrietta in a secret engagement. There
was great difficulty, he was aware, in accomplishing this purpose. Miss
Temple was devoted to her father; and though for a moment led away, by
the omnipotent influence of an irresistible passion, to enter into a
compact without the sanction of her parent, her present agitation too
clearly indicated her keen sense that she had not conducted herself
towards him in her accustomed spirit of unswerving and immaculate duty;
that, if not absolutely indelicate, her behaviour must appear to him
very inconsiderate, very rash, perhaps even unfeeling. Unfeeling! What,
to that fath
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