Sadly she retired to her own sitting-room, and saw no more of Fitzhenry, till, at their usual hour for riding, a servant came and told her the horses were ready, and that my lord was at the door waiting for her. Emmeline hurried down stairs. She dared not even look at her husband, for the wish to please had begun already to make her timid; but, by the tone of his voice, she soon judged that all _anger_ at least, if ever entertained against her, was gone. He even exerted himself more than usual to talk on indifferent subjects. Lord Arlingford arrived to dinner—Emmeline met him with the cordiality of a daughter. He seemed in high spirits, delighted with her, with the improvements in the house, with every thing. Many a time, did the blood rush into Emmeline’s cheek at the allusions he made to their late marriage, his railleries on the honey moon, and such common hackneyed subjects, which, trifling as they are, generally possess a power of pleasing where happiness really exists, but which to her and Lord Fitzhenry were torture. She turned all this off as well as she could; sometimes almost hating herself for having already become so artful. They thus got to the end of the first day of Lord Arlingford’s visit better than she had expected. The father and son had much to look at, much to talk over about the place, plantations, &c. and after the first two days, their party was enlarged by some young men, friends of Fitzhenry. Emmeline now found her task comparatively easy; she was of course the object of much attention with all her new guests; all were anxious to please her, and to court her acquaintance as Lord Fitzhenry’s wife; all, too, seemed surprised at finding Emmeline Benson, the banker’s daughter, the agreeable, intelligent, and perfectly well-bred person which, in truth, she was. At first, timidity made her feel embarrassed in her new situation; but that soon wore off, and, naturally gay, her spirits rose with the gaiety and lively conversation of those around her. She could not be indifferent to the flattering attentions paid her; and, to her own surprise, Emmeline soon found herself at her ease, and happy. For Emmeline’s heart was as yet comparatively free; an all-engrossing passion had not _yet_ destroyed its happy tranquillity, and a gay, joyous laugh often showed the innocent lightness of that heart. Once, from the other end of the dinner-table, she found Lord Fitzhenry’s eyes fixed upon her, but whether it was surprise at the part she was able to take in conversation, or displeasure, perhaps even disgust, at the gaiety which had thus attracted his attention towards her, she knew not. But that look—although his eyes were immediately withdrawn on meeting hers—had power instantly to check her mirth; and her neighbour scarcely recognised in the absent, silent person that now sat beside him, the gay companion, who, a few minutes before, entered so readily into all his ideas.