Wharton heard the whisper, and turning his head, met a smile from Ferdinand. The Duke bowed to Alice, who blushed angrily, while he requested Mrs. Coningsby to present him to her youngest daughter. Mrs. Coningsby took her hand and drew her reluctant steps towards him.
"Sweet Lady," said he, with a gentle seriousness passing over his face; "you are the sister of my best benefactress! and all of my heart I can spare from her virtues, I lay at the feet of yours."
There was a melody and a charm in these tenderer tones of his voice, the effect of which astonished her; for feeling as if she had heard the voice of truth itself, she lingered to hear him speak again; though she only answered him by a silent courtsey. Ferdinand observed the sudden change, and repeating his smile more archly to the Duke, whispered:—
"I shall be jealous, if you breathe that vox amantis again—or, you must teach me your note!"
"Apply to her sister!" replied Wharton, turning his brightening countenance towards approaching steps in the adjoining room. The careless hilarity of his features vanished at once, and gave place to an agitated sensibility, that sufficiently shewed, if his voice were the organ of tenderness, the power itself dwelt in his heart. He half rose from the sofa, to which he had been removed from the litter; and Louis with an emotion not less apparent, started towards the opening door.
Marcella was led in by her mother, and she approached with a faultering and conscious step.
Cornelia, who had taken her resolution, (whatever Wharton might be, and however he might profess himself) to make that just sacrifice to public opinion and to her own consistency, which should demand of him to make a probation at least;—drew on her own strength, and entered the room alone, and in an opposite direction.
She was advancing with a modest dignity, towards the happy group; but her step was hasty, as her eye instantly fell on her beloved cousin, and all the dangers he had just escaped, rushed at once upon her heart. Marcella entered at that moment, and looked confusedly round. She also saw the object dearest to her, but she durst not allow her eye to rest there. The same glance shewed her Cornelia, and being near her, unknowing what she did, she threw herself into her arms.
But the soul's unutterable language was not confined to the bosoms of those two conscious friends. In the same moment, Cornelia's hand was pressed to the lips of Wharton; and Marcella's to those of Louis. They knew whose lips were there, and, for that moment, they did not recall the hands so transiently blest.