'Miss Mowbray is fatigued with her voyage,' said he, tenderly approaching her—'The night air I am afraid has affected her health?'
'No, Sir;' coldly and faintly answered Emmeline.
'How is the young lady you was so good as to assist on shore, Sir?' said Mrs. Stafford. 'I understand she was ill.'
Godolphin blushed; and replied, with some little embarrassment, 'she is better, Madam, I thank you.'
'So,' thought Emmeline, 'he makes then no mystery of having an interest in this lady.'
'Are you acquainted with her?' enquired Mrs. Stafford.
'Yes.'
Politeness would not admit of another question: yet it was impossible to help wishing to ask it. Godolphin, however, turned the discourse, and soon afterwards went out. Emmeline felt ready to cry, yet knew not for what, and dreaded to ask herself whether she had not admitted into her heart the tormenting passion of jealousy.
'Why should I be displeased,' said she. 'Why should I be unhappy? Mr. Godolphin believes me attached to Delamere, and has ceased to think of me; wherefore should I lament that he thinks of another; or what right have I to enquire into his actions—what right have I to blame them?'