During the journey, Lord Fitzhenry’s agitation and abstraction rather encreased, and it could no longer escape Emmeline’s observation. His conversation was forced; in his manner towards her he was punctiliously attentive and civil—but perfectly cold and distant. When they arrived at Arlingford, all the servants were assembled in the hall to receive them; a numerous and respectable group, who, by the tears of joy which some of them shed, seemed most sincerely to partake in the supposed happiness of their young master. One of them, who stood apart from the rest, even ventured to address him with particular congratulation as with the familiarity of an old friend, and to give Emmeline his blessing. “Thank you, Reynolds, thank you,” said Fitzhenry hastily, as he shook the old man by the hand. Emmeline’s heart was cast in nature’s best mould, and this simple action of her husband found its way to it. She smiling raised her tearful eyes to his face, but the expression she there found, soon made her again cast them down. The scene seemed to have totally discomposed him; and, in an awkward, hurried manner, thanking the rest of the servants, he led the way to the drawing-room. Dinner was ordered directly, and all seemed so zealous to serve their young master and mistress, that it was not long coming, but still there was an awful pause. Lord Fitzhenry walked up and down the room, forced himself to speak, then, suddenly, as if recollecting that some degree of gallant attention was to be expected from him, a bridegroom of only six or eight hours, he hurried up to Emmeline and helped her off with her shawl; but his manner was so odd, so unlover-like, that it at last alarmed even her innocent, unsuspecting mind, and she timidly asked if he was not well. He started at her question, and seemed much embarrassed; but, after a moment’s pause, replied, “The journey, the hurry, I suppose; indeed, I hardly know what, but something has given me a dreadful headache.” And then, as if roused by her remark to a sense of the strangeness of his behaviour, he put more force upon himself, showed her the public rooms, her own sitting room, in which were collected books, musical instruments, and every possible means of amusement. In answer to her enquiries, explained to Emmeline who were her new relations that hung framed on the walls; and, when she admired the comfort of the house, and particularly of her own boudoir, he said something about hoping she would be happy in it, but the phrase died away in uncertain accents.