“So, then, Lord Morven is a married man!” said Edmund.
“Is there any thing so very astonishing in that?” demanded her ladyship.
“No—oh no,” he stammered out.
“Lady Morven is expected here in a few days,—that is, if she does not disappoint, as usual,” continued Lady Susan.
“In a few days!” repeated Edmund.
“Did you then think my brother so very disagreeable, or ugly, or what, that he could not get a wife?” she asked, laughing.
“Ugly! disagreeable!” repeated Edmund, glancing a complacent look at Lord Morven, (for his own good-humour was fast returning,) “quite the contrary; your brother is extremely handsome!” and he might have added, “so is your ladyship,” had he spoken all he thought: for Lady Susan’s smiling countenance, just then, appeared the most charming in the world, Julia’s only excepted, at which, from an involuntary impulse, he at the instant stole a glance. He met her eyes—she smiled—a kind of intoxication came over his spirits—he danced as if on air, and talked an immensity. His partner thought him quite fascinating. When the dance was over, Frances and several other ladies congratulated Lady Susan, with much laughing, on her sudden conquest, telling her she had already made quite another being of Captain Montgomery! Frances said she should resign any claims she might have on the score of old acquaintanceship, for she thought Edmund quite spoiled, he was grown so affected.
He, for his part, had flown to avail himself of Julia’s promise. He had forgotten disparity of rank, want of fortune, mystery of birth, everything, but that she was not going to be married to Lord Morven! He could now feel only, that he was near to, dancing with, looking upon a being altogether captivating; and experiencing, in so doing, a delight he had never known before; while blending itself with, and lending an additional interest to, the natural admiration of personal loveliness, there was, as he gazed, an unexamined, yet endearing consciousness, that this was indeed the self-same being, not only whom he had all his life tenderly loved, but, still more, who had always shown the strongest, the most enthusiastic affection for him. It was as a child, certainly—but it was delightful to remember it! And as she sat at the supper-table, trying with now downcast, now averted eyes, to laugh off the blushes which Edmund’s extravagant compliments on her growth and improvement had called up; and that he, turning towards her, his arm leaning on the table before her, forgetting all present but herself, the moments flew in a delirium of absolute happiness, till all but the thus engrossed couple having risen from their seats, they too were reminded that it was time to move: and the gay scene closed for the night.