"But," said Maria, without reflecting, "you look
worse than usual."
There was so much truth in this remark, that the
young man could only smile in silence, while
Seymour, surveying the very plain exterior of his
new acquaintance, turned his eyes with additional
satisfaction towards a mirror that reflected his own
form from head to feet.
"You will not attempt the flute to-night, George?"
said Charlotte.
"I believe I must, or not fulfil my engagement to
Mrs. Osgood."
"Surely," continued Charlotte, in a low tone to her
friend, "George had better not play, looking so ill as
he does."
"Certainly not; besides, his performance would not
shine after that of Mr. Delafield."
Seymour overheard this speech, which was really
intended only for the ear of Charlotte, and he was
instantly seized with an unaccountable desire to
hear the flute of Mr. Morton. Seymour was
conscious that he played well, and could he have
forgotten the indifference that Miss Henly exhibited
to his performance, would have been abundantly
flattered with the encomiums that were lavished on
his skill.
A request from the mistress of the mansion now
compelled George to make his appearance among
the musicians, and in a few minutes his flute was
heard alone. There was a vacancy in the looks of
Charlotte, during the scientific execution of the
different individuals who had been labouring at the
several instruments in the course of the evening,
that denoted a total indifference to the display.
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