For a short
time there was a confusion of sounds that perfectly
justified the absence of Miss Henly, when the music
began in earnest. Within half an hour, Mr. Delafield,
who had suffered himself to be drawn to the back
of the chair of a professed belle, turning his head
to conceal a yawn that neither the lady's skill nor
his good manners could repress, observed Charlotte
sitting quietly by the side of her friend. Her
entrance had been conducted with such tact, that
had she possessed the most musical ear
imaginable, it were impossible to disturb the party
less; a circumstance that did not fail to impress
Seymour agreeably, from its novelty. He moved to
the side of the fair vision that had engrossed all his
thoughts since the moment they had first met, and
took the chair that the good nature of Miss Osgood
offered to his acceptance between them.
"Thank fortune, Miss Henly," he said, the instant he
was seated, "that bravura has ceased, and I can
now inquire how you recovered from the fatigue of
your walk?"
"I suffered no fatigue to recover from," replied the
lady, raising her eyes to his with an expression that
told the youth he had better talk straight forward at
once; "I walk too much to be fatigued with so short
an excursion."
"You came here to favour us with your skill on the
harp, Miss Henly?"
"No."
"On the piano?"
"On neither--I play on nothing."
"You sing, then?"
"Not at all.
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