'You left us very abruptly last night,' said Major Douglas.
'I did so,' replied Mordaunt with a sort of grave smile.
'Were you taken ill?' asked Maynard.
'I—I was not quite easy,' answered he: 'but, Miss Douglas, may I request the honour of seeing you alone for a few minutes?'
Again the ladies blushed, and the gentlemen smiled. But Emma's weakness had been temporary: she had convinced herself that Colonel Mordaunt's action had been nothing more than a tribute to what he fancied her generous defence of an unfortunate woman: and with an air of embarrassed dignity she gave him her hand to lead her into an adjoining apartment.
'This is very good of you,' cried Colonel Mordaunt: 'but you are all goodness!—My dear Miss Douglas, had I not gone away as I did last night, I believe I should have fallen down and worshipped you, or committed some other extravagance.'
'Indeed!—What could I say to excite such enthusiasm!' replied Emma deeply blushing.
'What!—Oh, Miss Douglas!'—Then after a few more ohs, and other exclamations, he related to her the whole progress of his acquaintance with an attachment to Adeline, adding as he concluded, 'Now then judge what feelings you must have excited in my bosom:—yes, Miss Douglas, I reverenced you before for your own sake, I now adore you for that of my lost Adeline.'
'So!' thought Emma, 'the kiss of the hand is explained,'—and she sighed as she thought it; nor did she much like the word reverenced: but she had ample amends for her mortification by what followed.
'Really,' cried Colonel Mordaunt, gazing very earnestly at her, 'I do not mean to flatter you, but there is something in your countenance that reminds me very strongly of Adeline.'