At length, after a painful pause, endeavouring to assume a firmness, which she was far from possessing, she replied, “I repeat it, Henry. It is not to you that I shall render an account of my conduct. For yourself—merit toleration, (if you can,) and, for peace sake, I will shew it you.” Henry’s eyes flashed with rage for a moment, then, bowing, he answered with a sneer, “Lady Julia L. is pleased to condescend!” and, looking at her insolently from head to foot, he laughed with an expression which it was impossible to comprehend, yet which, evidently, had some horrible meaning; and, snatching up her hand, he almost crushed the delicate fingers together ere he again released it; saying, as he did so, “Julia, you little know what is before you! Faith, I cannot help laughing,” he continued, “when I think how you shall change your tone one of those days.” At this moment Edmund singled from a group at the further end of the room, and approached. He came to claim Julia’s promised hand for the set now forming; and Henry, for this time, walked away without disputing it. How gladly did she take the offered arm of our hero; she literally clung to it. He felt her tremble, and turned towards her with a look of anxious enquiry. She begged him to take her out of the room, and get her a glass of water. No sooner had they escaped the danger of general observation by reaching the gallery, along which but an occasional straggler passed, than she burst into a passion of tears. She suffered Edmund to take her hand, and even, unconsciously, returned the pressure of his; as, notwithstanding the painful suspicions renewed by what he had just seen, he tenderly entreated to know the cause of her tears. “Do not ask me, Edmund! do not ask me!” was all she was able to say. Edmund was confounded; for, strange as were all the circumstances, there was, at the moment, an unguarded tenderness in her voice and manner, which seemed to convey almost conclusive evidence of attachment to himself. Yet, was it not Henry who had caused her emotion? Edmund had observed the deep interest with which they had conversed; he had seen Henry take her hand, the hand he now held; and he dropped it at the recollection. As soon as Julia was able, they returned to the ball-room, Edmund again enduring all the doubts, all the tortures of a passion, debarred from explanation with its object.