The substance of the foregoing narrative was related by Mrs. Fitzgerald to Mrs. Wilson, who repeated it to Emily in their ride home.  The compassion of both ladies was strongly moved in behalf of the young widow; yet Mrs. Wilson did not fail to point out to her niece the consequences of deception, and chiefly the misery which had followed from an abandonment of some of the primary duties of life—­obedience and respect to her parent Emily, though keenly alive to all the principles inculcated by her aunt, found so much to be pitied in the fate of her friend, that her failings lost their proper appearance in her eyes, and for a while she could think of nothing but Julia and her misfortunes.  Previously to their leaving the cottage, Mrs. Fitzgerald, with glowing cheeks and some hesitation, informed Mrs. Wilson she had yet another important communication to make, but would postpone it until her next visit, which Mrs. Wilson promised should be on the succeeding day.

Chapter XXVII.

Emily threw a look of pleasure on Denbigh, as he handed her from the carriage, which would have said, if looks could talk, “In the principles you have displayed on more than one occasion, I have a pledge of your worth.”  As he led her into the house, he laughingly informed her that he had that morning received a letter which would make his absence from L——­ necessary for a short time, and that he must remonstrate against these long and repeated visits to a cottage where all attendants of the male sex were excluded, as they encroached greatly on his pleasures and improvements, bowing, as he spoke, to Mrs. Wilson.  To this Emily replied, gaily, that possibly, if he conducted himself to their satisfaction; they would intercede for his admission.  Expressing his pleasure at this promise, as Mrs. Wilson thought rather awkwardly, Denbigh changed the conversation.  At dinner he repeated to the family what he had mentioned to Emily of his departure, and also his expectation of meeting with Lord Chatterton during his journey.

“Have you heard from Chatterton lately, John?” inquired Sir Edward Moseley.

“Yes, sir, to-day:  he had left Denbigh Castle a fortnight since, and writes he is to meet his friend, the duke, at Bath.”

“Are you connected with his grace, Mr. Denbigh?” asked Lady Moseley.

A smile of indefinite meaning played on the expressive face of Denbigh, as he answered slightly—­

“On the side of my father, madam.”

“He has a sister,” continued Lady Moseley, willing to know more of Chatterton’s friends and Denbigh’s relatives.

“He has,” was the brief reply.

“Her name is Harriet,” observed Mrs. Wilson.  Denbigh bowed his assent in silence, and Emily timidly added—­

“Lady Harriet Denbigh?”

“Lady Harriet Denbigh—­will you do me the favor to take wine?”

The manner of the gentleman during this dialogue had not been in the least unpleasant, but it was peculiar; it prohibited anything further on the subject; and Emily was obliged to be content without knowing who Marian was, or whether her name was to be found in the Denbigh family or not.  Emily was not in the least jealous, but she wished to know all to whom her lover was dear.