In the mean time, Lady Hunter, in her point lace and beautiful veil, seated beside her baronet, in his new barouche, endeavoured to forget this interruption of her triumph. She considered, that though Miss Hunter’s fortune was lost to her family, yet the title of countess, and the Wigram estate, were _secure_: this was solid consolation; and recovering her features from their unprecedented discomposure, she forced smiles and looks suitable to the occasion, as she bowed to congratulating passengers. Arrived at Beaumont Park, she prepared, without appetite, to partake of the elegant collation, and to do the honours with her accustomed grace: she took care to seat Mr. Palmer beside her, that she might show the world on what good terms they were together. She was pleased to see, that though two younger brides sat near her, she engaged by far the largest share of public admiration. They were so fully content and engrossed by their own feelings, that they did not perceive that they were what is called _thrown into the shade_. All the pride, pomp, and circumstance of these glorious hymeneals appeared to them but as a dream, or as a scene that was acting before them, in which they were not called to take a part. Towards the end of the collation, one of the guests, my Lord Rider, a nobleman who always gave himself the air of being in a prodigious hurry, declared that he was under the necessity of going off, for he expected a person to meet him at his house in town, on some particular business, at an appointed day. His lordship’s travelling companion, who was unwilling to quit so prematurely the present scene of festivity, observed that the man of business had engaged to write to his lordship, and that he should at least wait till the post should come in. Lady Hunter politely sent to inquire if any letters had arrived for his lordship; and, in consequence of his impatience, all the letters for the family were brought: Lady Hunter distributed them. There was one for Captain Walsingham, with a Spanish motto on the seal: Lady Hunter, as she gave it to him, whispered to Amelia, “Don’t be jealous, my dear, but that, I can tell you, is a letter from his Spanish incognita.” Amelia smiled with a look of the most perfect confidence and love. Captain Walsingham immediately opened the letter, and, looking at the signature, said, “It is not from my Spanish incognita,--it is from her aunt; I will read it by and by.” “A fine evasion, indeed!” exclaimed Lady Hunter: “look how coolly he puts it into his pocket! Ah! my credulous Amelia, do you allow him to begin in this manner?” pursued she, in a tone of raillery, yet as if she really suspected something wrong in the letter; “and have you no _curiosity_, Mrs. Walsingham?” Amelia declared that she had none; that she was not one of those who think that jealousy is the best proof of love.