The following morning Miss Emmerson and her
niece, attended by Charles, took a walk to examine
the beauties of Albany. It did not strike our heroine
as being so picturesque as it had her friend; still it
had novelty, and that lent it many charms it might
have wanted on a more intimate acquaintance.
Their forenoon, however, exhausted the beauties of
this charming town, and they had returned to the
inn, and the ladies were sitting in rather a listless
state when Charles entered the room with a look of
pleasure, and cried "he is here."
"Who!" exclaimed Julia, starting, and trembling like
an aspen.
"He!--Tony," said Charles, in reply.
Julia was unable to say any more; but her aunt,
without noticing her agitation, asked mildly, "And
who is Tony?"
"Why Anthony, the driver--he is here and wishes to
see you."
"Show him up, Charles, and let us learn when he
will be ready to go on."
This was an awful moment to Julia--she was on the
eve of being confronted, in a room, for the first
time, with the man on whom she felt that her
happiness or misery must depend. Although she
knew the vast importance to her of good looks at
such a moment, she looked unusually ill--she was
pale from apprehension, and awkward and
ungraceful from her agitation. She would have given
the world to have got out of the room, but this was
impossible--there was but one door, and through
that he must come.
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