"And who is the youth?" asked Mrs. Henly, affecting an indifference that she did not feel.
"You will have the handsomest son in the city, certainly," said Maria; "and, possibly, the richest—and the most learned—and, undeniably, the most admired!"
"You quite excite my curiosity to know who this paragon can be," said the mother, looking at her husband, who returned the glance with one of equal solicitude.
"I do not think he is more than four and twenty," added Maria; "and his black eyes would form a charming contrast to your blue ones."
"To whom does Miss Osgood allude?" asked Mrs. Henly, yielding to a solicitude that she could no longer controul.
"To Mr. Seymour Delafield," said Charlotte, raising her mild eyes to the face of her mother, and smiling, as she delicately pared her apple, with a simple ingenuousness that banished uneasiness from the breast of her parent in an instant.
"I know him," said Mr. Henly; "but I did not think you had ever seen him, Charlotte."
"We met him in our morning walk, sir, and Maria introduced him."
"He is thought to be very handsome," continued her father, helping himself to a glass of wine while speaking.
"And very justly," returned the daughter; "I think him the handsomest man that I have ever seen."