“Oh, Emily, what a brave, handsome, courteous, interesting creature!” exclaimed Caroline, enthusiastically; “who can he be?”
“I can’t conceive; but we shall be sure to find out, for he is walking in the direction of Ashburn,” was the reply. “He certainly knocked that dreadful man down very cleverly, and was extremely kind and good-natured to us; but do you think him so very handsome?”
“Oh, there can’t be a doubt about it! Those pale, interesting features—that lofty brow—those splendid flashing eyes—the dark clusters of his waving hair!”
“Carry, you’ve fallen in love with the man at first sight, and are a susceptible little goose; he is by no means the Adonis you make out; and, remember, we know nothing about him; he may be a bagman for anything we can tell to the contrary,” rejoined Emily.
“No, I’m quite certain he is a gentleman, and most likely something better still. He spoke just like Lord Adolphus Fitztoplofty, when I danced with him at the race-ball, and he asked me whether I’d seen the ‘Prophète,’ and if I didn’t doat upon that dear Mario (so lucky that he should fix upon the only opera I’d ever heard, wasn’t it?), and yet you pretend to believe he’s a bagman; but I know you only say so to plague me, you naughty thing;” and thus speaking, Caroline relieved her overwrought feelings by giving her friend a playful blow, which the most fragile fly might have endured unshrinkingly.
“My dear child, I never hinted anything of the kind,” returned Emily; “au contraire, I believe Lord Adolphus to be a thoroughly well-authenticated young nobleman, and consider him the most gentlemanly puppy I have ever met.”
“Tiresome girl; you know I don’t mean Lord Fitz. But I’ll stake my penetration on the stranger’s gentility; you only abuse him because you admire him so much that you are ashamed to own it, you mean, deceitful girl!”
“Silly child, how can you be so absurd!” said the Rosebud; but although it was so dark that, if she had blushed, her friend could never have discovered it, she turned away her head as she spoke.