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PAGE 3

Heart
by [?]

“Doubtless,” returned the gentleman, gravely, and for the first time withdrawing his gaze from the countenance of Charlotte; but the precaution was unnecessary:–the young lady had been too much engrossed with her own sensations to notice the conduct of others, and from the moment that the carriage had driven out of right, had kept her eyes on the ground, as she walked silently and unobtrusively by the side of her companion.

“Miss Henly–Mr. Seymour Delafield,” said Maria. The silent bow and courtesy that followed this introduction was succeeded by an animated discourse between the gentleman and his old acquaintance, which was, but seldom interrupted by any remark from their more retiring companion. Whenever she did speak, however, the gentleman listened with the most flattering attention, that was the more remarkable, from the circumstance of his talking frequently at the same time with Maria Osgood. The trio took a long walk together, and returned to the house of Mr. Henly, in time for the necessary arrangements for the coming dinner. It was when within a short distance of the dwelling of Charlotte that the gentleman ventured to allude to the event that had made them acquainted.

“The fearless manner in which you predicted the humanity of Mr. Morton, would be highly gratifying to himself, Miss Henly,” he observed; “and were I of his acquaintance, it should be my task to inform him of your good opinion.”

“I believe Mr. Morton has not now to learn that,” said Charlotte, simply, but dropping her eyes; “I have been the next door neighbour of George all my life, and have seen too much of his goodness of heart not to have expressed the same opinion often.”

“But not to himself,” cried Maria; “so, Mr. Delafield, if you wish to apprise him of his good fortune, you have only to attend my music party to-morrow evening, and I will take particular care that you get acquainted with the humane hero.”

The invitation was gladly accepted, and the gentleman took his leave at the door of the house.

“Well, Charlotte, you have seen him at last!” cried Maria, the instant the door had closed; “and I am dying to know how you like him!”

“To save your life,” said the other, laughing, “I will say a great deal, although you so often accuse me of taciturnity–but who is HIM?”

“Him! why, Delafield!–Seymour Delafield!–the pattern for all the beaux–the magnet for all the belles–and the delight of all the parents in town!”

“His own, too?” inquired Charlotte, a little archly.

“He has none–they are dead and gone–but their money is left behind, and that brings him fathers and mothers by the dozen!”

“It is fortunate that he can supply their loss in any way,” said Charlotte, with emphasis.

“To be sure he can; he can do more than you or I could, my dear; he can pick his parents from the best in the city–and, therefore, he ought to be well provided.”

“And could he be better provided, as you call it, in that respect, than ourselves?” asked Miss Henly, a little reproachfully.

“Oh no, surely not; now if he were a woman, how soon would he be married!–why, child, they say he is worth at least three hundred thousand dollars!– he’d be a bride in a month!”

“And miserable, perhaps, in a year,” said Charlotte; “it is fortunate for him that he is a man, by your tale, or his wealth might purchase misery for him.”

“Oh! no one can be miserable that is well married,” cried Maria; “Heigho! the idea of old-maidism is too shocking to think about!”

“Why does not Mr. Delafield get married, then, if marriage be so very desirable?” said Miss Henly, smiling at the customary rattle of her companion: “he can easily get a wife, you say?”

{rattle = trivial chatter}

“It is the difficulty of choosing–there are so many attentive to him–“

“Maria!”

“Mercy! I beg pardon of female delicacy!–but since the young man has returned from his travels, he has been so much–much courted–nay, by the old people, I mean–and the girls beckon him about so- -and it’s Mr. Delafield, have you read Salmagundi?– and, Mr. Delafield, have you seen Cooke?–and, Mr. Delafield, do you think we shall have war?–and have you seen Bonaparte? And, in short, Mr. Delafield, with his handsome person, and three hundred thousand dollars, has been so much of all- in-all to the ladies, that the man has never time to choose a wife!”