But would not lose thee for a world.’
Prudent vows those, making them to depend on his own youth, and his fair one’s beauty. What think you of that moral sentiment, Lady Fitzhenry?”
Emmeline dared not speak; she feared a double meaning might be given to whatever she said; but the crimson on her cheeks betrayed how well she knew the lines. Fitzhenry, for an instant, looked up—his face was scarcely less suffused than hers, and hastily rising from his seat, he left the room.
“Alas!” thought Emmeline, “again he will accuse me of braving him; of purposely wounding his feelings!” and it was with difficulty she could conceal from Mr. Moore how much he had discomposed her.
The next day, when she went through the gallery, the door of Fitzhenry’s room chanced to be open, and as her eyes eagerly wandered into it, she observed that the two drawings had disappeared from over the chimney. What this meant, she could but too well guess: she plainly saw that he suspected her of meanly endeavouring to pry into his feelings, and to trace each thought inimical to herself, with a view (perhaps he concluded) to gain at least the power of tormenting him, when hopeless of obtaining any other. “Oh, Fitzhenry!” thought she, “will the time ever come, when you will know me better, and learn to do me justice?”
CHAPTER VII.
Call ye the city gay? its revels joyous?
—They may be so to you; for ye are young
(Belike) and happy. She is young in years,