“I declare it is provoking,” cried Lady Chatterton, with a tear in her eye, “to have such ingenious plans as Derwent and I had made lost from the want of necessity in putting them in force.  Your demure niece has deceived us all handsomely; and my rigid cousin, too—­I will rate him soundly for his deception.”

“I believe he already repents sincerely of his having practised it,” said Mrs. Wilson, “and is sufficiently punished for his error by its consequence.  A life of misery for four months is a serious penalty to a lover.”

“Yes,” said the other; “I am afraid his punishment was not confined to himself alone:  he has made others suffer from his misconduct.  I will rate him famously, depend upon it I will.”

If anything, the interest felt by Lady Chatterton for her friend was increased by this discovery of the affections of Pendennyss, and a few hours were passed by the three, in we will not say sober delight, for transport would be a better word.  Lady Chatterton frankly declared that she would rather see Emily the wife of the earl than of her brother, for he alone was good enough for her; and Mrs. Wilson felt an exhilaration of spirits, in the completion of her most sanguine wishes, that neither her years, her philosophy, nor even her religion, could entirely restrain.  The face of Emily was a continued blush, her eye sparkled with the lustre of renewed hope, and her bosom was heaving with the purest emotions of happiness.

At the appointed hour the rattling of wheels announced the approach of the earl and his sister.

Pendennyss came into the room with a young woman of great personal beauty and extremely feminine manners, leaning on his arm.  He first announced her to Mrs. Wilson as his sister, Lady Marian Denbigh, who received her with a frank cordiality that made them instantly acquainted.  Emily, although confiding in the fullest manner in the truth and worth of her lover, had felt an inexplicable sensation of pleasure, as she heard the earl speak of his sister by the name of Marian; love is such an unquiet, and generally such an engrossing passion, that few avoid unnecessary uneasiness while under its influence, unless so situated as to enjoy a mutual confidence.

As this once so formidable Marian approached to salute her with an extended hand, Emily rose, with a face illumined with pleasure, to receive her.  Marian viewed her for a moment intently, and folding her arms around her, whispered softly as she pressed her to her heart,

“My sister, my only sister.”

Our heroine was affected to tears, and Pendennyss gently separating the two he loved best in the world, they soon became calm.

Lady Marian was extremely like her brother, and had a family resemblance to her cousin Harriet; but her manners were softer and more retiring, and she had a slight tinge of a settled melancholy.  When her brother spoke she was generally silent, not in fear, but in love.  She evidently regarded him amongst the first of human beings, and all her love was amply returned.