Emmeline cooled her burning eyelids, rang for her maid, and dressed for dinner. Fitzhenry was perfect in his manner and attentions to Mr. and Mrs. Benson. He seemed instinctively to know how to please the former; sent for the oldest wine out of the cellar for him, filled his snuff-box on purpose, bore with his bad jokes, adapted his conversation to him, asking him questions—the replies to which perhaps he never listened to—but which gave the appearance of seeking information from him; and, in the gratitude of her heart for all this kindness, when she ventured to raise her eyes on her husband’s handsome, manly countenance, smiling in goodnature on her parents, Emmeline wondered how the idea of leaving him, betraying him, ever could have entered her mind, and she thought that to live with so amiable a being, on any terms, would be happiness. As soon as the servants had left the dining-room, Mr. Benson filled his glass to a bumper. Emmeline, who observed the smile on his face as he deliberately poured in the wine, dreaded what was coming. “I am an old fashioned old man,” said Mr. Benson, “and I love all old customs, so I must beg leave to propose a toast—My Lord and Lady Fitzhenry,” said he, bowing to them exultingly, “and may they, and may I, see many happy returns of the nineteenth of August.” Emmeline coloured, and fixed her eyes on the table before her. “This is the happiest day of my life I believe,” continued Mr. Benson, “not even excepting my own wedding-day; my heart had been so long set on seeing my Emmy happily settled as your wife; and I must congratulate myself, as well as you, my Lord, at its having at last come to pass. For you too have had it long in your head, or I am much mistaken,” added Mr. Benson, nodding significantly to Lord Fitzhenry. “Well do I remember, when Emmy was not above so high, your calling her your little wife, and saying you had a right to kiss her, when you took leave of us, on going abroad. I warrant you have not forgot that any more than myself.” And in the exuberance of his joy, he again held out his hand to his son-in-law. Emmeline dared not look up to see how her husband stood this trial; her heart beat so violently that she felt as if its pulsations must be heard during the dead silence, which for an instant followed Mr. Benson’s speech. Lord Fitzhenry was the first to break it; and, hastily drinking off his glass, as he bowed in return to Mr. Benson, “You will find this wine very good, I think,” said he; “it is some which a friend of mine brought me from Madeira, and has never been in a wine-merchant’s hands.” “Yes, indeed, most excellent,” replied Mr. Benson, “and I hope by this time next year I may drink some of it, to the health of a little heir to the family.”