“A dear credulous creature!” exclaimed Lady Hunter. She had now undisturbed possession of the letter. Captain Walsingham stood by with a face of great concern; in which Amelia and Mr. Beaumont, without knowing the cause, seemed to sympathize. The contest had early attracted the attention of all within hearing or view of her ladyship, and by this time had been pointed out and accounted for in whispers, even to the most remote parts of the room; so that the eyes of almost every individual in the assembly were now fixed upon Lady Hunter. She had scarcely glanced her eye upon the letter, when she turned pale as death, and exclaimed, “He knew it! he knew it!” Then, recollecting herself, she made a struggle to conceal her dismay--the forced smile quivered on her lip,--she fell back in a swoon, and was carried out of the room by her son and daughter. Sir John Hunter was at another table, eating eel-pie, and was the last person present who was made to understand what had happened. “It is the damned heat of the room, I suppose,” said he, “that made her faint;” and swallowing the last morsel on his plate, and settling his collar, he came up to Captain Walsingham. “What’s this I hear?--that Lady Hunter has fainted? I hope they have carried her into the air. But where’s the letter they say affected her so?” “In my pocket,” said Captain Walsingham, coolly. “Any thing new in it?” said Sir John, with a sulky, fashionable indifference. “Nothing new to you, probably, Sir John,” said Captain Walsingham, walking away from him in disgust. “I suppose it was the heat overcame Lady Hunter,” continued Sir John, speaking to those who stood near him. “Is any body gone to see how she is now? I wonder if they’ll let me in to see her.” With assumed carelessness, but with real embarrassment, the bridegroom went to inquire for his bride. Good Mr. Palmer went soon afterwards, and knocked softly at the lady’s door. “Is poor Lady Hunter any better?” “Oh! yes; quite well again now,” cried Lady Hunter, raising herself from the bed, on which she had been laid; but Mr. Palmer thought, as he saw her through the half-opened door, she still looked a deplorable spectacle, in all her wedding finery. “Quite well again, now: it was nothing in the world but the heat. Amelia, my love, go back to the company, and say so, lest my friends should be uneasy. Thank you, kind Mr. Palmer, for coming to see me: excuse my not being able to let you in now, for I must change my dress. Sir John sends me word his barouche will be at the door in ten minutes, and I have to hurry on my travelling dress. Excuse me.” Mr. Palmer retired, seeing clearly that she wished to avoid any explanation of the real cause of her fainting. In the gallery, leading from her room, he met Captain Walsingham, who was coming to inquire for Lady Hunter. “Poor woman! do you know the cause of her fainting?” said Captain Walsingham.