"You compliment me, Mr. Delafield, at the expense of truth, if it really be a compliment to tell me that I am not a girl—a female; for if I am not a woman, I must be something worse."
"You are an angel!" said Delafield, with uncontrollable fervour.
Charlotte was startled by his manner and his words, and unconsciously turned to her friend, as if to seek her protecting presence; but to her astonishment, she beheld Maria in the act of closing the door as she was leaving the room.
"Maria!" she cried, "whither in such a hurry? I expected you to pass the morning with me."
"I shall see your mother and return," replied Miss Osgood, closing the door so rapidly as to prevent further remark. This short speech, however, gave Charlotte time to observe the change that something had produced in the countenance of her old companion, where, in place of the thoughtless gaiety that usually shone in her features, was to be seen an expression of painful mortification; and even the high glow that youth and health had imparted to her cheeks, was supplanted by a death-like paleness. Delafield had been endeavouring to peruse the countenance of Miss Henley in a vain effort to discover the effect produced by his warm exclamation; and these observations, which were made by the quick eye of friendship, entirely escaped his notice.
"Maria is not well, Mr. Delafield," Charlotte said hastily. "I know your goodness will excuse me while I follow her."
The young man bowed with a mortified air, and was somewhat ungraciously beginning to make a polite reply, when the door opened a short space, and the voice of Miss Osgood was once more heard, saying in a forced, but lively manner—
"I never was better in my life; I shall run into Mrs. Morton's for ten minutes; let me find you here, Mr. Delafield, when I return." Her footstep was heard tripping along the passage, and in a moment after, the street door of the house opened and shut. Charlotte perceiving that her friend was determined, for some inexplicable reason, to be alone, quietly resumed her seat. Her musing air was soon changed to one of surprise, by the following remark of her companion.
"You appear, Miss Henley," he said, "to be sensitively alive to the ailings of all you know but me."
"I did not know that you were ill, Mr. Delafield! Really, sir, I never met with any gentleman's looks which so belied him, if you are otherwise than both well and happy."