“No! no! there has nothing passed of late to change whatever may have been the usual tenor of his feelings towards me. It must be Lady Susan he means. The expressions you speak of, Frances, must allude to the time spent in her society, both here, and at Arandale. You know, whatever intimacy there was, commenced the very first evening he danced with her; and very soon afterwards, you know, she herself told you, that he wanted her to marry him; and that she intended to do so, if Lord and Lady Arandale would give their consent. Now, it is evident, that they have not consented, and that it is Lady Susan’s having married the Marquis after all, that Edmund thinks such a dreadful disappointment, such a blow, as he calls it.” “It must be so,” said her sister. “Yet, Frances,” recommenced Julia, “I had, some how, lost sight of the possibility of his preferring one, still, as I thought, a comparative stranger. I had contrived to persuade myself, that the whole business about Lady Susan, was either some mistake, as you once suggested, or a momentary fancy; perhaps, a feeling of gratitude for her preference; and I had dwelt with delight on the praises bestowed on him by all the world, and Mr. Jackson in particular, who is so sensible. I had thought, that I too might highly esteem—might—might—regard—with even—a great share of—affection, one, whom every one seemed to admire, and whom, I knew, that you and grandmamma loved so much. And, oh, Frances! when, in the midst of the congratulations of his friends, and the high compliments paid him by every one, I have seen an expression of melancholy mix itself with his smile; and then thought, (I don’t know why, but I did think so,) that it was in my power to make him quite happy—with what feelings have I said—he shall be happy! Frances, in such moments, I have resolved to—to—be his, (that is, some time or other. And now—I, who did so resolve, am as nothing in his eyes! My friendship for that at least he knew he possessed,) is cast away, because the love of a stranger is denied. Nay, my very existence seems to be forgotten! He is going away, he says, perhaps, for ever, and he makes not the slightest mention of being sorry to part, either from you, or me.” And she stopped, vainly attempting to check the tremor of her lip, while tears, that it was useless to try to hide, were rolling silently down her cheeks. After a long pause, she added:— “Were he happy, Frances, I might strive to forget a folly, which has existed, it would appear, only in my own thoughts; but while he is miserable, as he says he is, I know I shall never be able to feel towards him, as now I see I ought.”