“How fortunate!” thought she; “I shall now get away—­no matter how or where, I shall go, never again to return.”

And, unconscious of the agitation visible in her countenance, she hastily descended, impatient to bid an eternal adieu to her once loved Rose Hall.  She found Lady Emily and Colonel Lennox together.  Eyes less penetrating than her cousin’s would easily have discovered the state of poor Mary’s mind as she entered the room; her beating heart—­her flushed cheek and averted eye, all declared the perturbation of her spirits; and Lady Emily regarded her for a moment with an expression of surprise that served to heighten her confusion.

“I have no doubt I am a very unwelcome visitor here to all parties,” said she; “for I come—­how shall I declare it?—­to carry you home, Mary, by command of Lady Juliana.”

“No, no!” exclaimed Mary eagerly; “you are quite welcome.  I am quite ready.  I was wishing—­I was waiting.”  Then, recollecting herself, she blushed still deeper at her own precipitation.

“There is no occasion to be so vehemently obedient,” said her cousin; "I am not quite ready, neither am I wishing or waiting to be off in such a hurry.  Colonel Lennox and I had just set about reviving an old acquaintance; begun, I can’t tell when—­and broken off when I was a thing in the nursery, with a blue sash and red fingers.  I have promised him that when he comes to Beech Park you shall sing him my favourite Scotch song, ‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot?’ I would sing it myself if I could; but I think every Englishwoman who pretends to sing Scotch songs ought to have the bowstring.”  Then, turning to the harpsichord, she began to play it with exquisite taste and feeling.

“There,” said she, rising with equal levity; “is not that worth all the formal bows—­and ’recollects to have had the pleasure’—­and ’long time since I had the honour’—­and such sort of hateful reminiscences, that make one feel nothing but that they area great deal older, and uglier, stupider, and more formal than they were so many years before.”

“Where the early ties of the heart remain unbroken,” said Colonel Lennox, with some emotion, “such remembrances do indeed give it back all its first freshness; but it cannot be to everyone a pleasure to have its feelings awakened even by tones such as these.”

There was nothing of austerity in this; on the contrary, there was so much sweetness mingled with the melancholy which shaded his countenance, that even Lady Emily was touched, and for a moment silent.  The entrance of Mrs. Lennox relieved her from her embarrassment.  She flew towards her, and taking her hand, “My dear Mrs. Lennox, I feel very much as if I were come here in the capacity of an executioner;—­no, not exactly that, but rather a sort of constable or bailiff;—­for I am come, on the part of Lady Juliana Douglas, to summon you to surrender the person of her well-beloved daughter, to be disposed of as she in her wisdom may think fit.”