After a short visit, enlivened by a hilarity which Laura found more infectious than the gravity of Harriet, he proposed leaving his sister with her friend, while he rode on to call for a gentleman in the neighbourhood. 'Begone, then,' cried Laura, gaily, 'for I long to question Harriet what has given you such enviable spirits this morning.' 'Ah, she must not betray me,' said De Courcy, half smiling, half sighing, 'or I forfeit my only chance of being remembered when I am out of sight. If she can be silent, curiosity may perhaps befriend me.' 'How very humble!' cried Laura,—'as if curiosity were the only name you could find for the interest I take in what makes you gay, or Harriet grave!' 'Dear Laura,' said De Courcy, ardently, 'give the cause what name you will, if you will but think of me.' Then snatching her lily hands, he pressed them to his lips, and the next moment was gone.
Confused, surprised, a little displeased, Laura stood silently revolving his behaviour. He had never before made the slightest approach to personal familiarity. Had her frankness invited the freedom? 'Dear Laura!' It was the first time he had ever called her by any name less respectful than Miss Montreville. 'Well, and what then—it were mere prudery to be displeased at such a trifle. What,' thought she, 'can have delighted him so much? Perhaps the lady is kind at last. He need not, however, have vented his transports upon me.' And Laura was a little more angry than before.
During her cogitation, Laura forgot that she might apply to her companion for a solution of the mystery; perhaps she did not even recollect that Harriet was in the room, till happening to turn her head, she met a glance of sly inquisition, which, however, was instantly withdrawn. Harriet made no comment on the subject of her observation. 'The man is as much elated,' cried she, 'as if I were five-and-forty, and had never had a lover before.'
'You, my dear Harriet,' exclaimed Laura, instantly recovering her good humour, 'is it a conquest of yours that has pleased Mr De Courcy so much?' 'Even so,' returned Harriet—'Heigho!'
'I congratulate you: and yet it does not seem to delight you quite so much as it does your brother.'
'Really Laura I am not sure whether it does or not; so I am come to ask you.'
'Me! Indeed you have too much confidence in my penetration; but you have, fortunately, abler, and more natural advisers. Your mother'—
'Oh, my mother is so cautious, so afraid of influencing me! when to be influenced is the very thing I want. I do hate caution. Then I can't talk it over with her as I could with you. And then, there's Montague who looks so provokingly pleased; and yet he pretends to prim up his mouth, and say, "really it is a subject on which he neither can, nor ought to give an opinion." Pray, advise me, my dear.'
'What! before I know who the gentleman is; when perhaps you have even no right to inform me!'
'Pshaw! nonsense.—It is Bolingbroke. But I believe you have never met with him.' 'So you would have me advise you to marry a man whom I have never seen; for of course that is the advice you want. Had the balance lain on the other side, no advice would have been thought necessary.' 'Poh,' cried Harriet pouting. 'I don't want to be advised to marry him.' 'Are you sure,' returned Laura, smiling, 'that you know what you want.'—'Saucy girl! I would have you tell me whether I am ever likely to marry him!' 'Do you think I am by birth entitled to the second-sight, that I should foresee this before I know any thing of the gentleman's merits, or, what is of more consequence, of their rank in your estimation?' 'The man has good legs,' said Harriet, plaiting the fingers of her glove with great industry. 'Legs! really, Harriet, I was in hopes I had for once found you serious.'—'So I am; my dear; I never was so serious before, and hope I never shall again. Yet I don't know what to think; so I shall just tell you honestly how the matter stands, and you shall think for me.'