Juliet had scarcely spoken when they heard a voice in the entry, singing "I'd be a butterfly," and Madeline Malcolm, a tall, black-eyed, red-cheeked girl, with long ringlets of dark hair, came flying into the parlour, exclaiming, "What, still by fire-light—I shall have to pull your Peter's ears myself, if he does not mind his business and light the astral lamp sooner. O! here he comes. Now, Peter, proceed; and take yourself off as soon as you have accomplished the feat. Well,—now that there is no longer any danger of falling over this young gentleman, I must beg leave to be introduced to him in form. I surmise that he is the most learned Mr. Edward Lansdowne of Nassau-Hall, Princeton. Ah! I have torn my frock on the fender. Just like me, you know." Juliet immediately introduced her brother. "Well, Ned," exclaimed Miss Malcolm, "you have come to make us happy at last. Your sister has talked so much about you that I have actually been longing for your arrival. Come, tell us the best news at college. I have a cousin there, but he has not been in town since the rebellion before the last. I suppose he goes to New York to take his frolics. Come, tell us all the particulars of your last 'Barring out;' I suppose it was conducted according to the newest fashion. Juliet, did you ever see any thing like Ned's face? A sort of mixed expression; trying to smile and be agreeable, but looking all the time as if he could bar me out himself."
In this manner she ran on for near half an hour, Juliet laughing heartily, and Edward not at all. At last she rose to go away, and when Juliet invited her to stay all the evening, she said she must go home, for they were to have waffles at tea, and she would not miss them on any consideration. However, the tea-table in Mrs. Lansdowne's parlour being now set, she took a spoonful of honey which she dripped all over the cloth, and then giving Juliet a hearty kiss, she seized Edward's arm saying, "Come, Ned, escort me home. I am going in at the front-door this time, and there is always ice on our steps, so be sure to take care that I do not fall."
When Edward took his leave at Madeline's door, she shook hands with him, saying, "Am I not a wild creature? You see how my spirits run away with me."
Edward came back with a countenance of almost disgust. "If this is your new friend," said he to his sister, "I must say that I consider her scarcely endurable. Why, she never saw me before this evening, and yet she is as familiar as if she had known me all her life. To think of her calling me Ned."
"Ah!" said Juliet with a smile, "I suspect that to be the grand offence, after all. But depend upon it, you will like her better when you know her better."
"I very much doubt my ever liking her at all," replied Edward.
Nothing could exceed the sociability of Madeline Malcolm. She breakfasted, dined, and drank tea at Mrs. Lansdowne's table nearly as often as at her father's; and she frequently ran in early in the morning, and scampered into Juliet's chamber before she had risen. Mr. and Mrs. Lansdowne (both whose dispositions were remarkably amiable and indulgent) did not approve of their daughter's intimacy with Madeline. They had spoken to her on the subject; but Madeline's frank and caressing manner, and her perpetual good-humour, had so won the heart of Juliet, that it was painful to her to hear a word against her friend, as she called her. So her parents concluded to let it pass for the present; trusting to Juliet's becoming eventually disgusted by some outrageous folly of Madeline's, who seemed to think her professed volatility an excuse for every thing; and that the appellation of a wild creature, which she took pride in giving herself, would screen her from any resentment her unwarrantable conduct might provoke.
Still, as Edward observed, she had a great deal of selfishness and cunning; as is generally the case with wild creatures; for when females have so little of the delicacy of their sex as to throw aside the restraints of propriety, the same want of delicacy makes them totally regardless of the feelings or convenience of others, and renders them callous to every thing like real sympathy or kindness of heart.
At home, Madeline was allowed to do exactly as she pleased; her father's thoughts were perpetually in his counting-house, and her step-mother, who spent all her time in the nursery, was incessantly occupied with the care of a large family of young children, of whom Madeline never took the least account. And she was so much at Mr. Lansdowne's that Juliet had few opportunities of returning her visits.