. Edward
took me into the next room, and asked me if I had any
objection to the arrangement. As I saw by his face that he
would be exceedingly annoyed if I did object, I expressed my
perfect readiness to agree to it. He seemed altogether so much
pleased and excited, that my self-tormenting disposition
immediately suggested to me, that politics interested him more
than anything else, and that no one day since our engagement
had he appeared so satisfied and so cheerful. I was also
foolish enough to be annoyed at his seeming so thoroughly
reconciled to Henry; I felt a kind of vague irritation at
Henry's accompanying him on this journey, and the more his
spirits rose, the more mine fell. As I did not seem to take
much interest in his electioneering concerns he dropped the
subject, and began to talk of Alice, whose beauty and manners
he warmly praised. "You do not think that Henry appreciates
her, do you?"

"Who can tell," I exclaimed, "when a woman is appreciated?
Once secure in the affection he has inspired, a man's lore
often waxes wondrous cool." As I said this I had what the
French call "des larmes dans la voix."

Edward fixed his eyes on the ground and knit his brows, but
after a moment looked up into my face and said, "How well
Lovell knows you!"

I coloured, and asked him what he meant.

"I heard him say one day that it was difficult to tell if you
felt what you acted, or acted what you felt."

This severe sarcasm cut me to the heart, and to have Henry
quoted against me by Edward, was more than I could bear. Pride
and anger struggled for a moment with grief in my breast, but
were soon conquered by it. I must have looked intensely
unhappy, for Edward took my hand in his, and drawing me kindly
to him, said, "My dearest love, I did not mean to vex you."

"If you had you would have succeeded," I answered with
bitterness. "No, Edward," I continued, passionately; "from you
I can bear everything. Reprove me as often and as severely as
you please; treat me harshly when I deserve it; I shall never
be weary of _your_ reproof, nor complain of _your_ severity;
but that you should allow Henry to influence you against
me--that you should quote his sarcasms and call them truth,
even when their object is to make you doubt the reality of my
feelings, the sincerity of my affection--"

Edward got up, and walked up and down the room; his
countenance was more disturbed than it had yet been at any
time since our engagement.