Raising his hat, the
gentleman, addressing himself to the magnet that
had attracted him, said--
"Your friend declines the offer of my coat, and says
that the carriage is quite warm--they are going to
the alms-house, and I am happy to inform you that
the poor man is already much better, and is
recovering from his fit."
{The New York City Almshouse, at Bellevue on the
East River, housed over 1,500 inmates at a time
(with annual deaths approaching 500), and served
as a last refuge for the destitute of all ages}
Charlotte now for the first time observed the
speaker, and a blush passed over her face as she
courtesied her thanks in silence. But her
companion, aroused from gazing at the finery of a
shop window, by the voice of the stranger, turned
quickly, and with very manifest satisfaction,
exclaimed--
"Bless me! Mr. Delafield--I did not observe you
before!--then you think the poor wretch will not
die?"
"Ah! assuredly not," returned the gentleman,
recognizing the face of an acquaintance, with an
animation he could not conceal: "but how
inadvertent I have been, not to have noticed Miss
Osgood before!"--While speaking, his eyes rested
on the lovely countenance of her friend, as if, by
their direction, he meant to explain the reason of
his remissness.
"We were both too much engaged with the
sufferings of the poor man, for until this moment I
did not observe you," said the lady--with that kind
of instinctive quickness that teaches the fair the
importance of an amiable exterior, in the eyes of
the other sex.
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