Lady Stephenson was unexpectedly pleased with her young companion; there was no mixture of _niaiserie_ in the simplicity of Agnes; and though her ladyship in no degree shared her aunt's extravagant passion for originals, she had in her own quiet way a reasonably strong liking for whatever appeared to her untainted by affectation. The beauty of Agnes might perhaps have had some share in the pleasure she gave; but certain it is, that, after taking two or three turns together instead of one, and perceiving Lady Elizabeth about to move her quarters in search of fresh amusement, she shook hands with Agnes before parting with her so cordially, that she felt called upon to offer some reason for it to her husband, who had quitted her during her promenade, but was now returned. "That is by far the most enchanting girl, Edward, in person, mind, and manners, that I ever remember to have met with.... How very strange that she should belong to one of my aunt's collection." "She is vastly beautiful, Emily," replied Sir Edward, "and I suspect that covers a multitude of sins in your eyes; for I observe you never fail to pick out the beauties, go where you will: I declare I think your eyes are infinitely sharper than mine in this way.... Having once found out the fairest of the fair, I do not feel so much interest as I used to do in looking about me." "A very pretty speech, Sir Edward," returned the lady, laughing; "but that sweet girl's beauty is not her greatest fascination. I must ask Lady Elizabeth whether she found the magnificent lady to whom she has been devoting herself answer her expectations." When this question was put to the old lady, however, she bluntly answered, "No, not at all.... She is as dull as a prize-ox decorated with ribbons at a fair." "I am sorry to hear it," observed Lady Stephenson, "for I have lost my heart to the fair girl in black whom she seems to lead about as a contrast to her radiant self.... I marvel what the connexion can be.... It is plain they are not related, from the deep mourning of the one and the rainbow brilliance of the other." "Your inference is altogether wrong, my Lady Stephenson; ... one of this Madam Barnaby's long stories was about this melancholy miss, who is her niece, and who will wear mourning in spite of her.... I must watch them at the pump, just to see if the girl makes up for her disobedience in this respect by swallowing the waters which Pringle says the aunt is determined she shall take, ... and after that I shall trouble myself no more about them.... The great woman does not answer; she is a vulgar, pompous, everyday bore." "Pray do not give her quite up, aunt, for my sake," said Lady Stephenson; "for I have set my fancy upon seeing a great deal more of her niece ... who, by the way, for so pertinacious a mourner, is wonderfully sprightly; ... but I must flatter myself she found consolation in my society. I must beg you to cultivate the acquaintance a little farther."