I left the room.

The squire then affected that my presence had constrained him, by bellowing out epithets easy for me to hear in the hall and out on the terrace.

He vowed by solemn oath he was determined to save this girl from ruin.

My aunt's speech was brief.
I was summoned to Bath by my father in a curious peremptory tone implying the utmost urgent need of me.
I handed the letter to the squire at breakfast, saying, 'You must spare me for a week or so, sir.' He spread the letter flat with his knife, and turned it over with his fork.
'Harry,' said he, half-kindly, and choking, 'you're better out of it.' 'I'm the best friend he could have by him, sir.' 'You're the best tool he could have handy, for you're a gentleman.' 'I hope I shan't offend you, grandfather, but I must go.' 'Don't you see, Harry Richmond, you're in for an infernal marriage ceremony there!' 'The young lady is not of age,' interposed my aunt.
'Eh?
An infernal elopement, then.

It's clear the girl's mad-head's cracked as a cocoa-nut bowled by a monkey, brains nowhere.