l striking countenance was deeply marked with lines of
sorrow and care, and his dark luxuriant locks were thinned and grizzled,
while his features, which had long been schooled to betray no sign of
emotion of a transient or superficial nature, were now, as his eyes met
those of Mrs. Beauchamp's, convulsed as by the working of a strong
passion. A slight blush tinged Emily's usually pale cheek; she drew a
rapid breath, and her voice faltered perceptibly as she said at last,
"Yes, Philip Hayforth, I am Emily Sherwood!"

Not immediately did he reply either by word or look--not till she had
asked somewhat eagerly, "We are friends, Mr. Dalton--are we not?"

Pride wrestled for a minute with the better nature of Philip Hayforth;
but whether it were that his self-command was now greater than in the
fiery and impassioned season of youth, or that it was difficult to
maintain anger and resentment in the gentle, soothing, and dignified
presence in which he now found himself, I undertake not to tell; but
certain it is that this time at least he crushed the old demon down, and
forced himself to answer, though with a formal manner and somewhat harsh
tone, "Friends, Mrs. Beauchamp! Certainly, we are friends, if _you_ wish
it. Your goodness to my poor motherless Fanny has completely cancelled
all wrongs ever done to Fanny's father. Let the past be forgotten!"

"Not so, if you please," she answered gently, "rather let it be
explained. Mr. Dalton, we are neither of us young now, and have both, I
trust, outlived the rashness of youth. Never till our mutual truth is
made mutually clear, can we be the friends we ought to be--the friends I
wish we were for Edmund's and Fanny's sake. Let us both speak plainly
and boldly, and without fear of offence on either side. I promise, on
mine, to take none at the truth, whatever it may be."

Mr. Dalton, as she spoke, regarded her earnestly and wonderingly,
saying, as she finished, half in reverie, half addressing her, it would
seem, "The same clear good sense, the same sweet good temper, which I
had persuaded myself was but the effect of a delusive imagination! But I
entreat your pardon, madam, and I promise as you have done."

"Tell me then, truly, Mr. Dalton, why you never answered the last letter
I wrote to you, or acknowledged the receipt of the purse I sent?"

He started, as if he had received a pistol-shot; the formal, distant Mr.
Dalton had disappeared, and the eager, vehement Philip Hayforth