“Oh, a thousand times better than you would, sister; as she always does, and like an angel.”

The only point in dispute between Emily and her brother was her want of faith in his driving; while poor Grace, naturally timid, and unwilling to oppose any one, particularly the gentleman who then held the reins, had governed herself sufficiently to be silent and motionless.  Indeed, she could hardly do otherwise had she wished it, so great was his impetuosity of character; and John felt flattered to a degree of which he was himself unconscious.  Self-complacency, aided by the merit, the beauty, and the delicacy of the young lady herself, might have led to the very results her mother so anxiously wished to produce, had that mother been satisfied with letting things take their course.  But managers very generally overdo their work.

“Grace is a good girl,” said her gratified mother; “and you found her very valiant, Mr. Moseley?”

“Oh, as brave as Caesar,” answered John, carelessly, in a way that was not quite free from irony.

Grace, whose burning cheek showed but too plainly that praise from John Moseley was an incense too powerful for her resistance, now sank back behind some of the company, endeavoring to conceal the tears that almost gushed from her eyes.  Denbigh was a silent spectator of the whole scene, and he now considerately observed, that he had lately seen an improvement which would obviate the difficulty Mr. Moseley had experienced.  John turned to the speaker, and they were soon engaged in the discussion of curbs and buckles, when the tilbury of Colonel Egerton drove to the door, containing himself and his friend the captain.

The bride undoubtedly received congratulations that day more sincere than those which were now offered, but none were delivered in a more graceful and insinuating manner than the compliments which fell from Colonel Egerton.  He passed round the room, speaking to his acquaintances, until he arrived at the chair of Jane, who was seated next her aunt.  Here he stopped, and glancing his eye round, and saluting with bows and smiles the remainder of the party, he appeared fixed at the centre of all attraction.

“There is a gentleman I think I have never seen before,” he observed, to Mrs. Wilson, casting his eyes on Denbigh, whose back was towards him in discourse with Mr. Benfield.

“It is Mr. Denbigh, of whom you heard us speak,” replied Mrs. Wilson.  While she spoke, Denbigh faced them.  Egerton started as he caught a view of his face, and seemed to gaze on the countenance which was open to his inspection with an earnestness that showed an interest of some kind, but of a nature that was inexplicable to Mrs. Wilson, who was the only observer of this singular recognition; for such it evidently was.  All was now natural in the colonel for the moment; his color sensibly changed, and there was an expression of doubt in his face.  It might be fear, it might be horror, it might be a strong aversion; it clearly was not love.  Emily sat by her aunt, and Denbigh approached them, making a cheerful remark.  It was impossible for the colonel to avoid him had he wished it, and he kept his ground.  Mrs. Wilson thought she would try the experiment of an introduction.