"Poor Ernest," said she, pitying the wrongdoer, like a woman, "he was not pleased to be so taken by surprise.

No wonder; they are so ceremonious in London.

How good of him not to be angry!" Then she sighed; her heart had received a damp.
His voice seemed changed, and he did not meet her eyes with the look he wore at Willoughby.

She looked timidly into the garden.

She saw the gay colors of beaux, as well as of belles--for in these days broadcloth had not displaced silk and velvet--glancing and shining among the trees; and she sighed, but, presently brightening up a little, she said: "I will go and see that the coffee is hot and clear, and the chocolate well mixed for them." The poor child wanted to do something to please her husband.
Before she could carry out this act of domestic virtue, her attention was drawn to a strife of tongues in the hall.