Mr. Linchmore closed his book. It accidentally fell to the ground. His wife,--whose attention had been seemingly engrossed by Robert Vavasour, nevertheless watched her husband uneasily. When would his patience be exhausted? When would his pride take the alarm? Now! thought she, as she started at the slight noise the book made as it reached the ground. Calling to remembrance her husband's previous suspicions, she asked Mr. Vavasour to beg Miss Neville to play for a dance. He was at Amy's side as Mr. Linchmore rose from his chair. Very stiffly she received him. "Does Miss Neville intend retiring from observation all night? It was with some difficulty I found her out in this out of the way corner." "This is my usual seat when I am not required to play. I should have thought Mr. Vavasour had seen me here too often to have searched for me elsewhere." "You are right, I did not look for you elsewhere. What I meant to say was, that I wished you would take a seat somewhere, where one might catch a glimpse of you, instead of beneath the shade of this detestable window curtain. Have I got into a scrape by so wishing?" "Certainly not," replied Amy. "You think too little of self, Miss Neville. Look at Miss Strickland, who always plants herself in the most prominent position, so that no one can fail remarking her the moment they set foot into a room." "Do you not think it is rather her beauty strikes the eye of a stranger?" "It may be so. I do not admire her." "Not admire her?" exclaimed Amy, "I must condemn your bad taste, surely everyone must think her beautiful." "Because everyone thinks so, is that a reason why I should?" "No, but most men admire beauty. It seems so strange you should not." "I have the bad taste not to care about mere beauty such as Miss Strickland's; she is too proud, and, if I mistake not, her temper is none of the sweetest; no, I shall not choose my wife for her pretty face." "Perhaps you seek a miracle of perfection, mind and face both." "No miracle, Miss Neville, for I have seen both." He looked at her so earnestly, that Amy felt confused, while Charles, who savagely watched them at a distance, felt as surly as a bear, and as miserable as he well could be. He could stand it no longer. "Miss Neville," said he approaching them, "Has Vavasour given you Mrs. Linchmore's message?" "No. I quite forgot it," replied he, "It was something about dancing wasn't it? but I for one don't care a rush about it." "Because you do not, is no reason why others should not," retorted Charles, turning on his heel. "The next time a message is entrusted to Mr. Vavasour," said Amy rising, "I hope he will not forget to deliver it. I will ask Mrs. Linchmore if it is her wish I should play." "Stay, Miss Neville, I can answer the question She does--but--" "Thank you, I need no further commands," replied Amy proudly.