Mr. Mortimer was an extremely worthy man; but, totally without disguise himself, he did not readily suspect it in any other. John was a man of abilities, penetration, well-acquainted with the world, and with the fair sex, and not ignorant of the artifices and dissimulation which modesty and delicacy often introduce in the most virtuous and elevated female bosoms. He heard from the communicative old gentleman, all the detail of their journey, including the dashing miss that set off with Hamilton. In various conversations with his sister he turned the discourse upon his friend, but observed that she rather shifted the subject. She was much graver than usual, or if she attempted the appearance of gaiety, it was evidently an effort. One day a family in the neighbourhood was dining at Mr. Mortimer’s, and Maria, with a companion, was seated near a window that commanded a view of Northallerton, and the interjacent fields, and exerting herself to amuse the company, she had begun a very animated account of the comic performance of Mrs. Jordan in the country girl, and had placed her on the table sealing the letter, when the gate-bell ringing, she hastily turned about, and as hastily withdrawing her eyes, was overspread with blushes, and stopped short in the middle of her description. “Dear Maria,” said the father, “what’s the matter with you, girl?” A servant now entering addressed Mr. Mortimer, saying, “_Here be a young squire axing for my measter and young measter_:” and immediately after, our hero made his appearance, and was received with warm affection by his friend, and cordial kindness by the old gentleman. His reception from Maria appeared to her father too cold a civility to an acquaintance, who was the friend of her brother, to whom she herself had been obliged. When the ladies withdrew, they all, with the exception of Maria, united in praising the face, figure, and address of the young stranger.--Though Miss Mortimer was far from dissenting in her heart from these opinions, yet she had several reasons for concealing her acquiescence. Maria had often, among her companions, ridiculed the folly of love at first sight, and declared the thought it impossible for a rational woman to be enamoured of a man, however agreeable in appearance and manners, before she had an opportunity of knowing the qualities of his understanding and heart; and also, unless she had reason to conceive him attached to herself. This theory Miss Mortimer had often supported with brilliant ingenuity, but had begun now to apprehend that, like many plausible and splendid hypotheses, it would not stand the test of experiment. She really feared that she prized her fellow-traveller much too highly for so short an acquaintance, and besides, had not been without uneasiness since his departure, in company with the lady from Northallerton. Delicacy had restrained not only the tongue, but the eyes of our hero from that expression which