“Among the party then at Arlingford, you remember, was Pelham. He had come to England, on purpose to see me, and to make your acquaintance. Knowing my former history, he had, as a true friend, rejoiced at my marriage, for I had basely concealed from him the circumstances that had attended it, fearing his strict integrity; but, when living with us, it was impossible for him long to remain ignorant of our real situation. I was forced to confess all to him; and he did not spare me. He persecuted me eternally with your perfections. I allowed that you possessed sense, acquirements, gentleness, most pleasing manners; but I insisted upon your total want of feeling, on your having no heart; and I brought, as proofs of my assertions, your apparent perfect contentment under circumstances that would have roused the anger, if not broken the heart, of any woman who had a particle of sensibility. Even on that point he would not give way; and, one evening, while the whole party were busily employed in dancing, and you were engaged at the piano-forte, we were discussing the subject pretty warmly, (something that had passed having given rise to it,) and Pelham was maintaining you were _even_ much _attached_ to _me_; when a break in the music, a sudden burst of voices, and your name often repeated, made me turn round, and I beheld you in apparent gaiety of heart, waltzing joyously by yourself—‘Look there,’ said I to Pelham, (with the true selfish pride and impertinence of man,) ‘look at the sentimental girl, who is dying for love of me.’ “Pelham stared at you in astonishment. He was silenced; for, at that moment, I am sure he read you as little aright as myself. As for me, I at first looked at you in scorn; but other feelings soon succeeded. You were, at that minute, perfectly beautiful; there was a look of wild enjoyment, a brilliancy in your complexion, a grace in your person, that fixed my attention, and, in spite of myself, forced my admiration. I had never seen any one, (any _but one_,) waltz so well: at that moment, I almost thought I had never seen any one so lovely. The truth was, I seldom before had ever looked at you attentively, for I feared to encounter your eyes, and somehow they always instantly seemed to know when mine were directed towards you. “For an instant, I was lost in admiration, as I followed your light form round the room; so I suppose was Pelham, for our argument seemed totally forgotten by us both. Suddenly you came up to me, and seized my arm. Had the marble statue left its pedestal, and done the same, I could scarcely have started more violently beneath its grasp. I was altogether so thrown off my guard, that I hardly knew what to say or do. Your conduct surprised, (I must own,) even disgusted me; I thought it was no subject for a _joke_, and that there was a want of delicacy in thus braving me. You may remember I was made to waltz with you.” Emmeline’s deep crimson showed she remembered it well.