“Don’t rattle on so foolishly, Selina,” said her mother, trying to check her talkative daughter.
“That is what mamma always says,” retorted Miss Danvers, pettishly, and looking round for support in her denial of the charge of folly. “Mamma never lets me speak, which is very hard, for I am sure I am saying no harm,” added she, addressing Mr. Moore, whom she seemed to have dubbed her champion.
“I never presume to contradict mammas,” answered he; “otherwise I should say that such a mouth could never utter any thing which it would not be agreeable to hear.”
The young lady giggled, and, encouraged by the compliment, went on—
“Pray, Mr. Moore, seriously, as you are a lawyer, will you tell me, have husbands a right by law to read all their wives’ letters, as well as seize on their naughty brooches? Lady Fitzhenry, does Lord Fitzhenry read all your letters?”
“I should think he would be sorry to take the trouble,” said Emmeline, forced to reply to so direct a question, although from the quickness with which one silly idea chased another in Selina’s mind, she seldom required any answer.
“Why? have you a great many correspondents? I do so like correspondents, don’t you? and to get letters all crossed, and written under the seal, and every where; is it not delightful? I have so many friends I doat upon, that there is not a day I don’t write two or three long letters, and tell them every thing I feel and think; and then it passes away the morning so well; don’t it, Mr. Moore?”
“Why, I really cannot boast of as many confidential friends, or as much capacity of heart as you seem to be blessed with,” said he; “and, moreover, I have nothing to confide; so that I fear a very small note would contain all my feelings and thoughts.”
“Dear, how shocking! and how odd! I have so many charming friends, to whom I have so much to say, that I could write to them for ever; and then, when we have nothing particular to tell, we suppose ourselves people in a novel, and so carry on a story, you know, under feigned names: mine is Celestina.”
“It must be very interesting; and may I ask,” continued Moore, “who is the hero worthy of such a heroine?”