Seymour Delafield now laughed without any affectation--and exchanging a look of perfect consciousness of each other's meaning, they separated, as the preparations for the business of the evening were about to commence.For a short time there was a confusion of sounds that perfectly justified the absence of Miss Henly, when the music began in earnest.Within half an hour, Mr.Delafield, who had suffered himself to be drawnto the back of the chair of a professed belle, turning his head to conceal a yawn that neither the lady's skill nor his good manners could repress, observed Charlotte sitting quietly by the side of her friend.Her entrance had been conducted with such tact, that had she possessed the most musical ear imaginable, it were impossible to disturb the party less; a circumstance that did not fail to impress Seymour agreeably, from its novelty.He moved to the side of the fair vision that had engrossed all his thoughts since the moment they had first met, and took the chair that the good nature of Miss Osgood offered to his acceptance between them.
"Thank fortune, Miss Henly," he said, the instant he was seated, "that bravura has ceased, and I can now inquire how you recovered from the fatigue of your walk?""I suffered no fatigue to recover from," replied the lady, raising her eyes to his with an expression that told the youth he had better talk straight forward at once; "I walk too much to be fatigued with so short an excursion.""You came here to favour us with your skill on the harp, Miss Henly?" "No.""On the piano?"
"On neither--I play on nothing." "You sing, then?""Not at all."
"What! not with that voice?" exclaimed the young man, in surprise."Not with this voice, and surely with no other."Seymour felt uneasy, and, perhaps, disappointed.He did not seem to have roused a single sensation in the breast of his companion, and it was seldom that the elegant possessor of three hundred thousand dollars failed to do so, wherever he went, or whatever he did.But, in the present instance, there was nothing to be discerned in the countenance or manner of Charlotte that indicated any thing more than the sweetness of her nature and the polish of her breeding.He changed the subject.
"I hope your friend did not suffer yesterday from his humanity?""I sincerely hope so too," said Charlotte, with much simplicity, and yet with a good deal of feeling.
"I am fearful that we idle spectators," continued the gentleman, "suffered in your estimation, in not discovering equal benevolence with Mr.Morton."Charlotte glanced her mild eyes at the speaker, but made no reply."Your silence, Miss Henly, assures me of the truth of my conjecture." "You should never put a disagreeable construction on the acts ofanother," said Charlotte, with a sweetness that tended greatly to dissipate the mortification Mr.Delafield really felt, at the same time that he was unwilling to acknowledge it, even to himself.
They were now again interrupted by the music, which continued some time, during which George Morton made his appearance.His coat close buttoned to his throat, and an extra silk handkerchief around his neck, which he removed only after he entered the apartment, immediately arrested the attention of Charlotte Henly.Turning to Maria, she said, in those tones of real interest that never can be mistaken for manner--"I am afraid that George has suffered from his exposure.Do not ask him to play, for he will be sure to comply.""Oh! the chicken has only taken cold," cried Maria; "If he does not play, what will you do? you came here to hear him only.""Has Miss Henly ears for no other performer, then?" asked Seymour Delafield.
"Miss Henly has as many ears as other people," said Maria, "but she does not condescend to use them on all occasions.""Rather say," cried Charlotte, laughing, "that the want of taste in Miss Henly renders her ears of but little use to her.""You are not fond of music, then?" asked the youth, a little vexed at thinking that an accomplishment on which he prided himself would fail to make its usual impression.
"Passionately!" exclaimed Charlotte; then, colouring to the eyes, she added, "at least I sometimes think so, but I believe I am thought to be without taste.""Those who think so must want it themselves," said Seymour, in a low voice; then, obedient to the beck of one of the presiding nymphs, he hastened to take his share in the performance.
"Now Charlotte, you little prude," whispered her friend, the instant he withdrew, "is he not very, very handsome?""Very," said Charlotte; "more so than any other gentleman I have ever seen.""And engaging, and agreeable, and gentlemanlike?" "Agreeable, and gentlemanlike too.""And graceful, and loveable?"
