‘A very genteel young man, certainly!’ said the gratified Mr. Malderton, as the obsequious Sparkins and his partner joined the quadrille which was just forming.
‘He has a remarkably good address,’ said Mr. Frederick.
‘Yes, he is a prime fellow,’ interposed Tom, who always managed to put his foot in it—‘he talks just like an auctioneer.’
‘Tom!’ said his father solemnly, ‘I think I desired you, before, not to be a fool.’ Tom looked as happy as a cock on a drizzly morning.
‘How delightful!’ said the interesting Horatio to his partner, as they promenaded the room at the conclusion of the set—‘how delightful, how refreshing it is, to retire from the cloudy storms, the vicissitudes, and the troubles, of life, even if it be but for a few short fleeting moments: and to spend those moments, fading and evanescent though they be, in the delightful, the blessed society of one individual—whose frowns would be death, whose coldness would be madness, whose falsehood would be ruin, whose constancy would be bliss; the possession of whose affection would be the brightest and best reward that Heaven could bestow on man?’
‘What feeling! what sentiment!’ thought Miss Teresa, as she leaned more heavily on her companion’s arm.
‘But enough—enough!’ resumed the elegant Sparkins, with a theatrical air. ‘What have I said? what have I—I—to do with sentiments like these! Miss Malderton’—here he stopped short—‘may I hope to be permitted to offer the humble tribute of—’
‘Really, Mr. Sparkins,’ returned the enraptured Teresa, blushing in the sweetest confusion, ‘I must refer you to papa. I never can, without his consent, venture to—’
‘Surely he cannot object—’
‘Oh, yes. Indeed, indeed, you know him not!’ interrupted Miss Teresa, well knowing there was nothing to fear, but wishing to make the interview resemble a scene in some romantic novel.