“It’s brother Edmund! it’s brother Edmund!”
Our hero, meanwhile, swinging about in his boat-cloak, looked rather an unwieldy monster amongst them.
“My dear boy,” said Mrs. Montgomery, “why don’t you take off that great frightful muffle? I want to see what you are like!”
Edmund looked down at himself, laughed, and flung off the cloak, declaring he had quite forgotten it. Mrs. Montgomery now contemplated, with visible pleasure, his figure, become, from its height and proportions, almost manly, without losing any of that air of elegance, which, from childhood, had been animate grace of Edmund’s: then, pointing to an ottoman close beside her chair, she bade him sit down; and, putting on her spectacles, for the shedding of many tears had dimmed her sight, she kindly stroked back the hair from his forehead, and examined his features. Julia stood close at her other side, holding her other hand. Frances was off to publish the joyful tidings to good Mrs. Smyth and the rest of the household; by singing at every bound, “News! news! news!—Brother Edmund is come! brother Edmund is come!—News! news! news!”
After dropping a few large tears in silence, Mrs. Montgomery said, mournfully,
“My poor child was quite right. She always prophesied how handsome you would be, when I used to say you were all eyes and eyelashes. Now, I am sure, they are just in good proportion. She used to admire the forehead, too; and the form of the mouth; and the sweetness of the expression. Yes, yes! she was certainly right.”
And she looked at him as though he had been a picture, without the slightest compassion for his blushes.
Edmund, willing to turn the conversation from himself, said,
“Pray, ma’am, is it not generally thought that Julia will be very beautiful? Did you ever see any thing like the brilliancy of her colour?”
“Yes, it is very bright,” said the old lady, “a sign of health, I hope.”