"I met George Morton at the door, and chatted with
him for several minutes. He appears quite ill, but I
know he has gone two miles in the country for his
mother this raw day; unless he is more careful of
himself he will ruin his constitution, which is none
of the best now."
Maria spoke with feeling, and with a manner that
plainly showed that her ordinary levity was
assumed, and that she had at the bottom, much
better feelings than the trifling intercourse of the
world would usually permit her to exhibit. Charlotte
did not reply, but her brightening looks once more
changed to that pensive softness which so well
became her delicate features, and which gave to
her countenance an expression such as might be
supposed to shadow the glory of angels, when,
from their abode of purity and love, they look down
with pity on the sorrows of man.
The quick glance of Delafield not only watched, but
easily detected, both the rapid transitions and the
character of these opposite emotions. Under the
sudden influence of passions, that probably will not
escape our readers, he could not forbear uttering, in
a tone in which pique might have been too
apparent.
"Really, Mr. Morton is a happy fellow!"
The blue eyes of Charlotte were turned to the
speaker with a look of innocent inquiry, but she
continued silent. Maria, however, not only bestowed
a glance at the youth from her laughing hazel ones,
but found utterance for her tongue also.
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