Thaddeus bowed; then smiling faintly, turned to the blushing Mary, who, conscious of what had passed in the late conversation between herself and Lady Tinemouth, trembled so much that, fearing to excite the suspicion of Euphemia by such tremor, she withdrew her arm, and walked forward alone, tottering at every step. "I thought, Miss Beaufort," said he, addressing himself to her, "that Lady Tinemouth was to have had the happiness of your company at Harwold Park?" "Yes," returned she, fearfully raising her eyes to his face, the hectic glow of which conveyed impressions to her different from those which Euphemia expressed; "but to my indescribable alarm and disappointment, the morning after I had written to fix my departure with her ladyship, my aunt's foot caught in the iron of the stair- carpet as she was coming down stairs, and throwing her from the top to the bottom, broke her leg. I could not quit her a moment during her agonies; and the surgeons having expressed their fears that a fever might ensue, I was obliged altogether to decline my attendance on the countess." "And how is Miss Dorothy?" inquired Thaddeus, truly concerned at the accident. "She is better, though confined to her bed," replied Euphemia, speaking before her companion could open her lips; "and, indeed, poor Mary and myself have been such close nurses, my mother insisted on our walking out to-day." "And Lady Tinemouth," returned Thaddeus, again addressing Miss Beaufort, "of course she went alone?" "Alas, yes!" replied she; "Miss Egerton was forced to join her family in Leicestershire." "I believe," cried Euphemia, sighing, "Miss Egerton is going to be married. Hers has been a long attachment. Happy girl! I have heard Captain Ross say (whose lieutenant her intended husband was) that he is the finest young man in the navy. Did you ever see Mr. Montresor?" added she, turning her pretty eyes on the count. "I never had that pleasure." "Bless me! that is odd, considering your intimacy with Miss Egerton. I assure you he is very charming." Thaddeus neither heard this nor a great deal more of the same trifling chit-chat which was slipping from the tongue of Miss Euphemia, so intently were his eyes (sent by his heart) searching the downcast but expressive countenance of Miss Beaufort. His soul was full; and the fluctuations of her color, with the embarrassment of her step, more than affected him. "Then you do not leave town for some time, Miss Beaufort?" inquired he; "I may yet anticipate the honor of seeing--" he hesitated a moment, then added in a depressed tone--"your aunt, when I next wait on the Misses Dundas." "Our stay depends entirely on her health" returned she, striving to rally herself; "and I am sure she will be happy to find you better; for I am sorry to say I cannot agree with Euphemia in thinking you look well."