No two persons could possibly be actuated by sensations more different than Charlotte and Seymour Delafield. He had been so long palled with the attentions of managing mothers and designing daughters; had seen so much of female manoeuvring, and had so easily seen through it, that the natural and inartificial loveliness of Charlotte touched his senses with a freshness of delicacy that to him was as captivating as it was novel. Upon unpractised men, the arts of the sex are often successful, but generally they are allies that increase the number of the assailants, without promoting the victory. It is certain that many a fair one played that evening in order that Mr. Delafield might applaud; that some sighed that he might hear, and others ogled that he might sigh: but not one made the impression that the quiet, speaking eye, and artless but peaceful nature of Charlotte produced on the youth. While this novel feeling was gaining ground in the bosom of Mr. Delafield, Charlotte saw nothing in her new acquaintance but a gentleman of extraordinary personal beauty, agreeable manners, and graceful address--qualities that are always sure to please, and, not unusually, to captivate. But to her he was a stranger; and Charlotte, who never thought or reasoned on the subject, would have been astonished had one seriously spoken of her loving him. The road to conquest with her lay through her heart, and was but little connected with her imagination.
"Heigho! George," cried Maria, as he approached, "you have given me the dolefuls.""And me both pleasure and pain," said Charlotte.
"Why the latter?" asked the youth, quickly.
"Surely it was imprudent in you to play, with such a cold."The lip of the youth quivered, and a smile of mournful and indefinable meaning passed over his features, but he continued silent.
"It is to be hoped it had one good effect at least,"continued Maria.
"Such as what?"
"Such as putting the little dears to sleep in the nursery, which is directly over our heads.""It is well if I have done that little good," said George.
"You have brought tears into eyes that never should weep," cried Delafield, "and melancholy to a countenance that seems formed by nature to convey an idea of peaceful content."Morton looked earnestly at the speaker for a moment, when a painful feeling seemed suddenly to seize on his heart--for his cheek grew paler, and his lip quivered with an agitation that apparently he could not control. Charlotte alone noticed the alteration, and, speaking in a low tone, she said--"Do go home, George; you are far from being well--to oblige me, go home."
"To oblige you, I would do much more unwelcome biddings," he replied, with a slight colour; "but Ibelieve you are right; and, having discharged my duty here, I will retire."He rose, and, paying the customary compliments to the mistress of the mansion, withdrew. With him disappeared all the awakened interest of Charlotte in the scene.
In vain was Seymour Delafield attentive, polite, and even particularly so. That devotedness of admiration for which so many sighed, and which so many envied, was entirely thrown away upon Charlotte. She listened, she bowed, and she smiled--and, sometimes, she answered; but it was evidently without meaning or interest, until, wearied with his fruitless efforts to make an impression, and perhaps with a hope of exciting a little jealousy, he turned his attention to her more lively companion.
"Your mother's nursery, Miss Osgood," he cried, "ought on such an occasion to be tenantless.""You think there are enough of us here to make it so," returned the lady, with an affected sigh.
"I really had not observed the number of your charming family--how many are there of you?""A baker's dozen." Charlotte laughed, and the youth felt mortified. The laugh was natural, and clearly extorted, without a thought of himself.
"When you are all married," he said, "you will form a little world in yourselves.""When the sky falls we shall catch larks."
{When the sky.... = an old proverb, found in English, French, and even Latin, meaning that the idea or proposal is absurd}
"Surely, you intend to marry?"
Maria made no reply, but turned her eyes on Delafield, with an affected expression of melancholy that excited another laugh in her friend.
"You certainly have made no rash vow on the subject," continued Seymour, pretending to a slight interest in her answer.
"My troth is not yet plighted," said the lady, a little archly.
"But there is no telling how long it will continue so.""I am afraid so--thirteen is a dreadful divisor for a small family estate."A general movement in the party was gladly seized by Charlotte as an excuse to go, and Delafield handed her to her carriage, with the mortifying conviction that she was utterly indifferent to every thing but the civility of the act.
