The younger ladies had clustered together round a window and even Emily in her heart rejoiced that the gentlemen had come to relieve herself and sisters from the arduous task of entertaining women who appeared not to possess a single taste or opinion in common with themselves.

“You were saying, Miss Moseley,” observed the colonel in his most agreeable manner, as he approached them, “you thought Campbell the most musical poet we have; I hope you will unite with me in excepting Moore.”

Jane colored, as with some awkwardness she replied, “Moore was certainly very poetical.”

“Has Moore written much?” innocently asked Emily.

“Not half as much as he ought,” cried Miss Jarvis.  “Oh!  I could live on his beautiful lines.”

Jane turned away in disgust; and that evening, while alone with Clara, she took a volume of Moore’s songs, and very coolly consigned them to the flames.  Her sister naturally asked an explanation of so extraordinary a procedure.

“Oh!” cried Jane, “I can’t abide the book, since that vulgar Miss Jarvis speaks of it with so much interest.  I really believe aunt Wilson is right in not suffering Emily to read such things.”  And Jane, who had often devoured the treacherous lines with ardor, shrank with fastidious delicacy from the indulgence of a perverted taste, when it became exposed, coupled with the vulgarity of unblushing audacity.

Colonel Egerton immediately changed the subject to one less objectionable, and spoke of a campaign he had made in Spain.  He possessed the happy faculty of giving an interest to all he advanced, whether true or not; and as he never contradicted, or even opposed unless to yield gracefully, when a lady was his opponent, his conversation insensibly attracted, by putting the sex in good humor with themselves.  Such a man, aided by the powerful assistants of person and manners, and no inconsiderable colloquial talents, Mrs. Wilson knew to be extremely dangerous as a companion to a youthful female heart; and as his visit was to extend to a couple of months, she resolved to reconnoitre the state of her pupil’s opinion forthwith in reference to his merits.  She had taken too much pains in forming the mind of Emily to apprehend she would fall a victim to the eye; but she also knew that personal grace sweetened a benevolent expression, and added force even to the oracles of wisdom.  She labored a little herself under the disadvantage of what John called a didactic manner, and which, although she had not the ability, or rather taste, to amend, she had yet the sense to discern.  It was the great error of Mrs. Wilson to attempt to convince, where she might have influenced; but her ardor of temperament, and great love of truth, kept her, as it were, tilting with the vices of mankind, and consequently sometimes in unprofitable combat.  With her charge, however, this could never be said to be the case, Emily knew her heart, felt her love, and revered her principles too deeply, to throw away an admonition, or disregard a precept, that fell from lips she knew never spoke idly or without consideration.