Sir Ambrose smiled. "You are a singular youth," said he; "I should like to know you better." "And I," returned the stranger, "should be proud to obtain the friendship of Sir Ambrose Montagu, and shall always reckon the day that introduced me to his notice, as one of the happiest of my life." A glow of pleasure spread over the animated features of the youth as he spoke, and Sir Ambrose fancied his accent sounded slightly Irish: convinced, however, that he must be mistaken, he did not remark it, but only exclaimed, "You know me, then?" Before the stranger had time to utter a reply, the Duke of Cornwall, and the Princesses Rosabella and Elvira approached, and prevented him from speaking. "How do you find yourself, my dear friend?" said the duke; "they told us you were ill." "I have been slightly so," returned Sir Ambrose; "and I believe I should have fainted, and paid my respects to my Sovereign quite orientally, if this gentleman had not saved me." "I am sure we are very much obliged to you, Sir," said the duke, turning to the youth. "Indeed, we feel most grateful," said Elvira. The stranger made a suitable reply, and after a short conversation, in which Dr. Coleman joined, that worthy gentleman having been also drawn to the spot by the report of Sir Ambrose's illness, he requested the favour of Elvira's hand for the dance. "That is a very nice young man," said the duke, when he was gone to join the dancers: "I admire him much." "He deserves every thing you can say in his favour," returned Dr. Coleman: "I have known him long, and I love him as a son." When Elvira retired to her chamber that night, she sighed so often, and so deeply, that Emma, who assisted at her toilet, could not avoid remarking her uneasiness. "Are you ill, my dear mistress?" asked she, in a tone of feeling; "what else can have produced this sudden change?" "I am quite well," said Elvira, again sighing. "Why then do you sigh and look so thoughtful?" "I was thinking of Lord Edmund." "Indeed! I did not think he had the power to make you sigh. He has reason to feel flattered." "Oh, Emma! I wish he were like Henry Seymour!" "And who is Henry Seymour?" asked Emma, smiling, and beginning to suspect that she had been rather hasty in fancying Lord Edmund had occasion to flatter himself on account of the Princess's _tristesse_. "One of the most fascinating of human beings," returned Elvira; "so gay, and yet so tender. He is not, perhaps, so regularly handsome as Edmund, but he has such expressive features, and his soul gives such animation to his countenance." "Poor Edmund!" thought Emma: but as she was too discreet to say so, Elvira was not aware of the interpretation that might be put on what she was saying; and she went on, raving of the pleasures of the ball, till she was fairly in bed.