To the company around the table, Mr. Gage appeared to be entirely engrossed by his beautiful neighbour, in whose ear he was whispering a variety of pleasing nothings; while the match between Harriet and Mr. Humphries, long pending and often doubted, was now declared to be finally arranged. They had made and accepted the proposal at the pond, and she was civil to him, at last, in her manners. It was high time that she should be civil to some one—perhaps marriage would improve her—and really she had been out some years, and was glad, no doubt, to take any one who came for ward. So said Mrs. Pottinger and Mrs. Markham; and Harriet's spoilt and wayward temper left no milder impression upon the greater number of her country neighbours.
But Mr. Singleton, when the dessert was set on the table, observed, with some alarm, the flushed cheek and sparkling eye of his niece.
"Hallo, Harriet!" he exclaimed.
"Well, Sir," she replied.
"What is the matter with you?"
"Nothing at all, good uncle; let me recommend you to attend to your claret, instead of staring me out of countenance."
"Don't go and catch cold again—that's all," said Mr. Singleton.
"Never fear, Sir," returned Harriet, shortly.
"Are you subject to colds?" asked Mr. Humphries.